THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


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n\^  J^^  /r-'^^ 


LIFE  AND  LETTERS 


THOMAS    J.    MUMFORD, 


Memorial  Tributes. 


BOSTON: 

GEORGE  H.  ELLIS,  loi   MILK  STREET. 

1879. 


Stereotyped  and   Printud  by 

Geo.  H.  Ei.i.is, 

loi   Milk  Street,  Boston 


h- 


3 

< 


CONTENTS. 


fllArXKR  I'AOK 

iNTROnUCTION 'ii 

I.     Review  of  Early  Like i 

II.    Choice  of  the  Ministry 7 

ill.       I'RErARING    FOR    MeADVILI.E II 

IV.     In  the  Theological  School iS 

V.    Life  in  Detroit 30 

VI.     At  Marietta <'>5 

G      VII.     Removal  to. New  England 70 

""    \III.     The  Episcopal  Church 78 

^        l.\.     Life  in  Dorchester 81 

^          .\.     Editorial  Life 98 

E5        .\1.     LA.ST  Hours 113 

.\II.     Funeral  Services 115 

Address  of  Rev.  James  Freeman  Clarke,  D.D.  117 

5!                        Address  of  Rev.  Rufus  P.  Stebbins,  D.D 121 

^                        Hymn 124 

>                        Address  of  Rev.  J.  H.  Morison,  D.D 124 

o 

^                        Hymn 130 

XIII.     Biographical  Sketch 131 

XI\'.     A  Memorial  Sermo.v 142 

.        \V.     Personal  Trihutes .     .     .  ico 

O 

(J                         Mrs.  A.  D.  T.  Whitney 159 

^                         Cyrus  A.  Bartol 160 


Q                          George  W.  Hosmer 162 

03                          John  H.  Heywood 165 

^                          Charles  (i.  Ames 168 

Elizabeth  P.  Channing     .                    171 

Jasper  L.  Douthit 173 

Henry  G.  Spaulding    .                         175 

Henry  H.  15arber 17S 

Mary  Bartol 181 

VViliiam  P.  Tilden  .                                                              .  1S2 

Poem,  N.  M.  Safford  ,187 

XVI.     Rp:solutions     ....                                                    .  188 

.Wll.     Notices  of  the  Press                                  192 


MSSo"-? 


INTRODUCTION. 


To  those  who  knew  and  loved  Thomas  J.  Mum- 
ford,  this  little  book  will  need  no  justification. 
They  will  welcome  it,  not  simply  as  a  tribute  to  his 
memory,  but  as  a  fresh  and  genial  manifestation  of 
his  spirit.  There  is  not  one  who  knew  him  well 
who  may  not  find  here  an  opportunity  to  know  him 
better.  In  the  letters  which  furnish  nearly  one-half 
of  the  contents  of  this  book,  they  will  recognize 
in  the  touch  and  charm  of  his  gifted  pen,  new 
exhibitions  of  his  playful  wit,  his  earnestness  of 
character,  his  strength  of  conviction,  his  heroic 
devotion  to  the  truth,  his  unwavering  conscien- 
tiousness, and  that  sweetness  of  heart  which  gave 
a  rich  aroma  to  his  whole  life.  And  many  of  those 
who  knew  him  not  according  to  the  flesh  may 
delight  to  find  in  the  revelations  of  his  higher  life 
that  deeper  touch  of  moral  nature  which  makes 
the  whole  world  kin.  They  will  recognize  a  friend 
whom  they  would  like  to  have  known,  as  the  visitor 
in  a  picture  gallery  is  now  and  then  charmed  and 
taken  into  the  friendship  of  some  one  revealing 
face,  or  as  Paul  loved  the  Jesus  whom  he  had  never 
seen. 

Those  who  were  fortunate  enough  to  have  Mr. 
Mumford    as    a   pastor   found    ready    access    to    the 


iv  Introduction. 

inner  temple.  The  rare  gifts  of  his  nature  had,  in 
this  relationship,  free  scope  for  personal  expression. 
In  the  hearts  of  those  whom  he  had  thus  helped  and 
served,  there  are  tender  memories  which  this  book 
could  hardly  supplement.  But  the  far  wider  circle 
of  those  who  knew  him  only  as  an  editor  had  not 
an  equal  advantage.  They  could  feel  the  pressure 
of  mind  and  heart  in  every  number  of  his  bright 
and  attractive  paper ;  for  Mr.  Mumford  in  his  sphere 
as  editor  had  an  unusual  power  of  making  himself 
felt  without  allowing  himself  to  be  seen.  Yet  there 
were  few  who,  appreciating  his  editorial  work,  did 
not  suspect  that  the  man  was  more  than  the  editor, 
and  who  did  not  really  lose  in  their  distance  from 
him  even  more  than  they  suspected. 

It  is  no  disparagement  to  Mr.  Mumford's  success 
that  he  was  known  far  more  widely  by  his  work 
than  he  was  by  his  name.  Few  editors  were  so 
quotable  as  he.  Many  of  his  best  paragraphs  were 
reset  and  reprinted  in  other  journals,  which  intro- 
duced him  frequently  to  a  large  circle  of  readers 
who  never  knew  the  author,  but  who  certainly  felt 
his  influence.  Just  how  widely  he  was  known  and 
appreciated  as  an  editor  did  not  appear  until  his 
life  was  closed.  Then  the  flood  of  notices  from 
the  religious  press,  representing  all  denominations 
and  all  sections  of  our  country,  revealed  the  depth 
and  extent  and  nature  of  the  impression  which  his 
editorial  work  had  made.  The  unanimity  of  this 
impression,  and  the  cordiality  with  which  it  was 
acknowledged,  furnish  a  striking  proof  of    the  gen- 


Introduction.  V 

uineness  of  the  man  and  the  effectiveness  of  his 
work.  At  the  close  of  this  volume,  the  reader  will 
find  some  of  the  cut  flowers  which  his  editorial 
brethren  far  and  near  scattered  so  profusely  over 
his  tomb. 

Mr.  Mumford's  name  and  fame  might  safely  rest 
in  the  work  which  he  did  and  the  recognition  it 
received ;  but  we  feel  sure  that  there  are  many 
beyond  the  range  of  his  intimate  personal  friends 
who  will  be  glad  to  learn  something  more  of  the 
growth  and  development  through  which  it  was 
achieved. 

"Every  man  his  own  Bos  well,"  is  the  motto  of 
the  "Autocrat  of  the  Breakfast  Table."  We  doubt, 
however,  if  Mr.  Mumford  could  ever  have  been 
induced  to  write  an  autobiography.  But  in  the 
letters  which  are  presented  in  this  volume,  he  has 
unconsciously  furnished  us  the  best  kind  of  auto- 
biography. They  were  not  written  for  the  public 
eye.  The  writer  had  no  suspicion  that  they  were 
even  to  be  preserved.  They  were  addressed  to  inti- 
mate friends, —  the  majority  to  his  spiritual  father 
and  guide,  the  Rev.  Samuel  J.  May, —  at  periods 
of  life  ranging  from  youth  to  manhood.  They 
were  the  fresh,  spontaneous  utterances  of  an  active 
intellect  and  an  affectionate  heart.  Arranged  in 
chronological  order,  they  furnish  an  almost  con- 
nected account  of  his  life  from  childhood  until 
within  a  week  of  his  death.  They  reveal  the 
struggling  and  aspiring  youth,  the  eager  and  indus- 
trious   student,    the   kind    husband   and    father,  the 


vi  Introduction. 

earnest  preacher,  the  tender  pastor,  and  the  brilU 
iant  journalist. 

It  has  been  the  aim,  in  arranging  these  letters,  to 
let  them  speak  for  themselves.  All  editorial  matter, 
except  that  which  was  necessary  to  link  them  to- 
gether, has  been  excluded.  No  attempt  has  been 
made  to  form  a  complete  collection  of  Mr.  Mum- 
ford's  letters.  If  this  had  been  the  object,  the 
present  collection  might  well  be  deemed  incom- 
plete. He  was  a  prompt  and  faithful  correspond- 
ent, and  many  of  his  friends  who  read  this  book 
can  claim  bundles  of  letters  which  they  will  regard 
as  of  equal  value  with  any  it  contains.  The 
preponderance  which  is  given  to  the  letters  ad- 
dressed to  the  Rev.  Samuel  J.  May  will  need  no 
explanation  wherever  the  beautiful  relationship 
which  subsisted  between  them  is  known.  The 
story  of  that  friendship  he  told  briefly  as  he  stood 
near  Mr.  May's  grave  :  — 

"  Born  in  Beaufort  District,  South  Carolina,  where 
four-fifths  of  the  inhabitants  were  slaves,  the  son 
of  a  slave-holder,  until  I  was  twenty  years  old  I 
believed  in  slavery  as  a  divine  institution,  and 
carried  a  Bible  in  my  pocket  to  defend  it  against 
all  comers.  When  the  faithful  hands  of  noble 
Quaker  women  removed  the  sacred  veil  which  had 
concealed  the  monstrous  features  of  the  system, 
and  I  saw  clearly  at  last  that  it  was  not  of  celes- 
tial but  infernal  origin,  I  soon  lost  all  faith  in  my 
religious  teachers,  who  seemed  to  declare  that  man 
was  made  for  the  Church  and  not  the  Church   for 


Introdiiction.  vii 

man.  I  was  almost  drowning  in  a  sea  of  scepticism, 
when  Samuel  J.  May  came  to  the  town  in  Western 
New  York  where  I  lived. 

"  As  soon  as  I  saw  his  radiant  face  and  heard  his 
sweet  yet  earnest  voice,  I  felt  drawn  to  him  by  a 
mighty  magnetism.  It  became  my  first  desire  to 
share  in  the  blessed  work  that  he  was  doing,  to 
follow  him,  although  with  feeble  steps  and  a  great 
way  off,  in  going  about  doing  good.  Since  that 
day,  all  of  my  life  that  I  can  look  back  upon  with- 
out regret  and  shame  I  owe  to  the  inspiration  of 
his  example  and  the  power  of  his  encouragement. 
No  other  friend  has  exerted  such  an  uplifting  influ- 
ence upon  my  spirit.  Therefore  I  could  not  resist 
the  strong  attraction  which  has  drawn  me  here 
to-day." 

It  was  this  strong  and  abiding  attraction  in  the 
character  of  the  distinguished  reformer  which  im- 
pelled Mr.  Mumford,  at  the  urgent  request  also  of 
Mr.  May's  friends  and  executors,  to  write  the  life  of 
his  spiritual  counsellor  and  benefactor.  The  letters 
in  this  volume  may  properly  be  considered  as  a 
sequel  to  that  work.  They  throw  light,  not  merely 
upon  the  character  of  him  who  wrote  them,  but  also 
upon  the  character  of  the  noble  man  who  inspired 
them.  They  show  in  what  way  that  friendship  was 
formed,  and  into  what  a  tender  union  it  ripened. 
We  cannot  but  feel  that  all  who  rejoice  in  a  frank, 
manly,  earne5t,  and  devout  nature  will  find  assist- 
ance in  reading  these  warm  and  guileless  exhala- 
tions of  a  pure  and  consecrated  heart.     They  furnish 


viii  Introduction. 

a  high  yet  normal  key  to  which  every  young  and 
aspiring  life  should  be  tuned. 

The  second  part  of  the  book  is  made  up  of  the 
personal  and  biographical  tributes  which  were  pub- 
lished in  a  few  numbers  of  The  Christian  Register 
immediately  after  Mr.  Mumford's  death,  together 
with  the  friendly  notices  from  the  press  which  that 
event  called  forth.  Interesting  details  and  por- 
traiture of  life  not  revealed  in  his  letters  may  be 
found  in  a  biographical  sketch  by  the  Rev.  Rush 
R.  Shippen  and  in  the  sermon  of  Mr.  Chadvvick. 
These  papers  have  been  revised  to  adapt  them  to 
the  more  permanent  record  of  this  book,  while  the 
addresses  made  at  the  funeral  have  been  preserved 
in  the  same  free  and  spontaneous  form  in  which 
they  were  caught  by  the  stenographer's  pen. 

There  is  still  another  tribute  tenderly  recorded  in 
this  book  to  which  it  is  most  pleasing  to  revert.  It 
is  that  which  is  silently  expressed  in  the  love  and 
respect  borne  for  Mr.  Mumford  by  the  publisher,  his 
intimate  friend  and  associate,  and  also  by  all  those 
who  have  assisted  in  its  mechanical  preparation. 
This  part  of  the  work  has  been  committed  to  no 
strange  hands.  It  has  been  set  up  and  printed 
by  those  who  knew  him  well,  who  had  so  often 
followed  his  copy,  and  who  were  glad  to  pay  him 
a  printer's  tribute  of  respect  by  the  faithful  use 
of  the  very  same  types  whose  imprint  he  so  con- 
stantly read.  No  more  cordial  relation  ever  sub- 
sisted between  editor  and  publisher,  or  between 
editor   and    printers    and    proof-readers,    than    sub- 


Introduction.  ix 

sisted  between  Mr.  Mumford  and  his  co-vvorkcrs 
on  the  paper.  The  CJiristian  Register  was  one  of 
the  first  papers  in  Boston  upon  which  women  com- 
positors were  regularly  employed.  IMr.  Mumford 
was  a  warm  champion  of  this  innovation,  and  was 
fond  of  pointing  to  its  success.  He  was  proud  of 
the  "girls,"  as  he  called  them,  and  the  acknowl- 
edged excellence  of  the  typographical  work  of  the 
Register  shows  that  his  pride  was  well  founded.  It 
is  not  surprising,  then,  that  those  whose  interests 
he  had  so  much  at  heart  should  delight  to  illus- 
trate in  his  honor  the  fidelity  and  graces  of  that 
art  through  whose  aid  he  achieved  his  highest 
success. 

In  the  harmonious  union  in  this  threnody  of  the 
voice  of  him,  who  being  dead  yet  speaketh,  with 
the  antiphonal  song  of  those  friends, —  teachers, 
parishioners,  brother-ministers,  fellow-editors,  and 
co-workers  —  who  have  gathered  around  his  grave, 
there  is  blended  in  low  undertone  the  minor  strain 
of  her  who  above  all  others  has  most  right  to 
mourn.  Writing  most  of  the  editorial  connectives, 
furnishing  the  facts  for  others,  suggesting  and  select- 
ing the  letters  which  so  well  reveal  his  spirit,  she 
has  brought,  like  one  of  old,  her  sweet  spices  and 
ointment  to  tenderly  embalm  the  memory  of  him 
whose  spirit  can  no  more  be  contained  in  the  grave 
than  could  the  spirit  of  him  from  whose  tomb  the 
angel  rolled  away  the  stone. 

S.  J.  Barrows. 


LIFE  AND  LETTERS, 


LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  THOMAS  J.  MUMFORD. 


REVIEW  OF  EARLY  LIFE. 

First  Letter  to  Samuel  jf.  May.  —  Story  of  his   Yout/i.  — 
Aspi}-es  to  the  Ministry.  —  Zeal  for  Reform. 

Waterloo,  N.Y.,  Jan.  8,  1849. 
Rev.  S.  J.  May: 

Dear  Sir, —  Permit  a  stranger  to  ask  a  favor  of 
you.  I  wish  to  know  what  peculiar  qualifications  are 
necessary  to  fit  a  candidate  for  the  ministry  of  the 
Unitarian  Church,  the  nature  and  extent  of  the  prep- 
aration, the  places  where  the  studies  may  be  pursued, 
and  the  plan  of  the  Cambridge  Divinity  School.  If 
you  will  send  me  an  answer  to  these  inquiries,  I  will 
thank  you  most  heartily.  Trusting  that  you  will 
pardon  the  liberty  I  have  taken,  I  am, 

With  great  respect,  your  humble  serv't, 

Thomas  J.  Mumford. 

P.S. —  If  you  are  willing  to  listen,  I  will  be  glad  to 

inform  you  of  my  reasons  for  asking  the  questions 

above,  and  to  avail  myself  of  your  instruction  and 

advice. 

Waterloo,  N.Y.,  Jan.  21,  1849. 

Dear  Sir, —  Your  kind  letter  of  the  nth  inst.  was 
duly  received.     The  extracts  from    the  "Register" 


'2  Thomas  J.  Mumford. 

contained  the  information  that  I  desired,  and  I  thank 
you  for  your  prompt  compliance  with  my  request. 

Agreeably  to  your  suggestions,  I  shall  now  write 
an  explanation  of  my  object  in  consulting  you;  and 
that  it  may  be  intelligible,  I  will  preface  it  with  a 
brief  narrative  of  the  most  important  events  of  my 
past  life.  § 

I  am  now  twenty-two  years  of  age.  I  am  a  native 
of  South  Carolina,  but  have  resided  in  this  place  for 
eleven  years.  I  have  received  an  ordinary  academ- 
ical education.  I  left  school  in  1844,  and  entered 
upon  the  study  of  the  law.  After  I  had  almost  com- 
pleted my  preparatory  studies,  I  abandoned  the  idea 
of  becoming  a  lawyer.  My  reasons  for  so  doing 
were  twofold :  I  had  become  slightly  deaf,  and  thus 
unfitted  for  successful  practice  at  the  bar,  and  I  was 
sorely  disappointed  in  the  nature  of  legal  practice. 
I  could  not  reconcile  myself  to  that  indiscriminate 
advocacy  of  the  right  and  the  wrong  which  seems 
to  be  required  by  the  present  state  of  the  profession. 
Last  spring  I  became  one  of  the  editors  and  pub- 
lishers of  the  Seneca  Coimiy  Courier,  the  old  Whig 
organ  of  this  county.  Soon  after  I  entered  upon  my 
editorial  career,  I  was  compelled  to  choose  between 
interest  and  duty.  Gen.  Taylor  was  nominated,  and 
I  promptly  refused  to  support  him.  About  the  first 
of  September,  I  was  compelled  to  sell  my  paper  to 
the  more  orthodox  Whigs.  This  act  was  performed 
with  reluctance ;  but  I  could  not  afford  to  make  any 
more  pecuniary  sacrifices,  even  for  the  cause  of  Free- 
dom.    I  now  intend,  for  several  years    at    least,   to 


Life  and  Letters.  3 

pursue  the  editorial  calling ;  but  I  am  not  sure  that 
duty  does  not  call  me  to  another  station. 

For  many  years,  I  have  been  impressed  with  a 
belief  that  I  ought  to  devote  myself  to  the  work  of 
elevating  the  popular  standard  of  morality,  and  dis- 
seminating correct  ideas  of  the  nature  and  laws  of 
God.  My  parents  were  Episcopalians  (my  father, 
who  died  three  years  since,  being  a  warden  in  the 
church,  superintendent  of  the  Sunday-school,  etc.)  ; 
and  almost  all  my  friends  and  relations  are  members 
of  the  various  "orthodox"  societies.  Ever  since  I 
became  conscious  of  responsibility,  I  have  endeavored 
to  observe  all  the  rules  of  morality,  and  to  cherish  a 
sense  of  reverence  and  love  for  the  Supreme  Being  ; 
and  when  at  the  academy  I  attracted  some  notice  as 
a  speaker  on  several  public  occasions,  my  parents 
and  others,  observing  my  deportment,  thought  me 
calculated  for  the  work  of  the  Christian  ministry. 
Accordingly,  I  was  frequently  urged  by  my  much- 
beloved  friend,  the  Rev.  Mr.  Wheeler,  to  prepare  for 
the  pulpit.  Many  inducements  were  held  out  to  me, 
and  I  should  probably  have  followed  the  bent  of  their 
inclination,  and  to  some  extent  my  own,  had  I  been 
satisfied  with  the  doctrines  of  the  Church.  But  I 
was  not  satisfied,  and  I  could  not  play  the  hypocrite. 

I  have  read  and  thought  much  on  the  subject  of 
Christian  doctrine  for  several  years  past,  and  the 
effect  of  my  investigation  and  reflection  is  a  warm 
attachment  to  the  principles  of  the  Unitarian  Chris- 
tians, as  set  forth  in  the  writings  of  Dr.  Channing. 

I  have  been  so  unfortunate  as  to  differ  with  some 


4  TJiomas   J.  Mumford. 

of  my  most  beloved  relatives  and  many  of  my  kindest 
friends  upon  several  vital  questions.  Tlieyare  slave- 
holders ;  I  am  an  ardent  hater  of  the  accursed  sys- 
tem of  human  bondage.  They  are  Whigs,  ever  loyal 
to  their  party.  In  my  opinion,  the  Whig  party  has 
belied  its  noble  anti-slavery  professions,  and  in  the 
late  contest  I  found  myself  compelled  to  act  against 
it,  or  stifle  the  voice  of  conscience.  And,  lastly,  they 
are  "orthodox,"  and  I  am  Unitarian. 

Now,  although  I  do  not  hesitate  to  think  and  do 
what  I  believe  to  be  right  on  account  of  these  dif- 
ferences, I  find  that  their  di.slike  of  my  views  is,  in 
some  particulars,  a  serious  hindrance  to  my  progress. 
They  think  I  have  rashly  throv/n  away  a  fine  chance 
to  obtain  political  honor  and  offices ;  and  should  I 
immediately  begin  to  study  for  the  Unitarian  min- 
istry, I  fear  that  I  should  hazard  even  their  friend- 
ship. They  woultl  regard  me  as  one  seeking  to 
become  an  instrument  of  evil  and  heresy,  and  would 
probably  be  as  unwilling  to  grant  as  I  should  be 
indisposed  to  ask  any  "aid  and  comfort,"  pecuniary 
or  spiritual.  I  can,  however,  obtain  enough  money 
to  defray  my  expenses  at  Meadville,  if  the  published 
statement  be  true. 

I  have  determined  to  devote  myself  to  the  work 
of  religious,  moral,  and  political  reformation  ;  and  I 
am  only  at  a  loss  to  decide  in  which  station  I  can 
be  most  useful, —  the  newspaper  office  or  the  pulpit. 
If  my  decision  be  in  favor  of  the  latter,  I  shall 
endeavor  to  earn  my  living  and  a  part  of  the  means 
of  prosecuting  my  studies,  even  though  my  entrance 


Life  and  Letters.  5 

upon  my  future  duties  should  be  considerably  post- 
poned. But  I  am  not  entirely  satisfied  that  it  will 
not  be  better  for  me  to  remain  an  editor. 

If  the  learning  required  at  the  Cambridge  Divinity 
School  be  a  "  condition  precedent  "  to  the  ministry, 
I  hardly  know  how  I  can  now  master  it.  I  have 
already  spent  three  years  in  studying  for  one  pro- 
fession. I  have  always  been  a  diligent  and  careful 
reader,  and  I  think  I  may  justly  claim  to  an  exten- 
sive acquaintance  with  English  literature,  and  som.e 
familiarity  with  political  history  and  the  great  move- 
ments of  the  present  day.  While  at  school  I  was 
perhaps  too  much  interested  in  the  events  of  the 
present,  and  too  much  inclined  to  "  let  the  dead 
past  bury  its  dead";  for  I  valued  the  Latin  and 
Greek  only  as  helps  to  a  better  knowledge  of  the 
English.  I  would  like  the  study  of  the  German,  I 
think,  and  would  apply  myself  to  the  task  of  learning 
so  much  of  the  dead  languages  as  may  be  absolutely 
necessary  to  a  proper  preparation  for  the  ministry. 

Will  you  oblige  me  by  writing  your  opinion  upon 
this  matter  of  "classical  learning"  in  connection 
with  the  studies  for  the  ministry } 

I  am,  with  great  respect,  your  friend, 

Thomas  J.  Mumford. 

P.S. —  I  acknowledge  that  the  chief  reason  of  my 
wish  to  stand  in  the  pulpit  arises  from  a  painful  con- 
viction that  the  present  popular  standard  of  morality 
is  lamentably  low.  If  I  become  a  minister,  I  shall 
devote  much  of  my  attention  to  the  popular  sins  of 


6  Thomas  J.  Muinford. 

the  day,  repudiating  all  such  atheistical  maxims  as 
"  my  country  (or  my  party),  right  or  wrong,"  and 
striving  to  be  for  the  right,  whoever  may  oppose  it ; 
against  the  wrong,  whoever  may  uphold  it.  I  think 
the  pulpits  of  our  country  are  wanting  in  ministers 
bold  enough  to  do  this,  and  hope  that  I  am  among 
the  number  who  are  ready  to  reinforce  the  gallant 
band  who  now  defend  Freedom  and  Truth  against 
such  fearful  odds. 

I  know  the  dangers  and  difficulties  of  such  a 
course,  but  trust  that  an  ardent  love  of  righteousness, 
and  rigid  economy  will,  with  the  Divine  aid,  enable 
me  to  wage  a  manly  warfare  against  the  giant  evils 
of  our  time  and  nation. 

Rev.  S.  J.  May. 


II. 

CHOICE  OF  THE  MINISTRY. 

The   Decisio7i  Made.  —  Spirit  of  Sacrifice. — Notes  of  his 
Reading.  —  Opposition  from  Friends. 

Feb.  I,  1849. 

Dear  Sir, —  After  the  gravest  deliberation  of  which 
my  mind  is  capable,  I  am  well  convinced  that  my 
place  is  in  the  pulpit,  and  that  I  ought  to  enter 
upon  the  work  of  preparation  immediately.  Your 
kind  interest  in  my  welfare  has  excited  my  liveliest 
gratitude,  and  an  early  reply  to  the  inquiry  I  am 
about  to  make  will  be  most  pleasing  and  serviceable 
to  me. 

Upon  referring  to  the  leaves  of  the  "  Register,"  for 
which  I  am  indebted  to  you,  I  perceive  that  a  term  of 
the  Meadville  School  will  commence  in  about  a  fort- 
night from  this  time.  I  am  anxious  to  enter  upon 
the  duties  of  the  ministry  as  soon  as  I  may  be  fitted 
therefor,  and  no  sooner ;  and  I  think  that  by  com- 
mencing immediately,  the  end  I  have  in  view  will  be 
more  speedily  attained.  What  shall  I  do, —  go  to 
Meadville  the  middle  of  this  month,  or  study  at  home 
until  September  .^  If  it  will  hasten  my  preparation, 
I  prefer  the  former  course  ;  and  my  business  here 
requires  that  I  shall  have  at  least  a  fortnight's  notice 
of  the  fact.     I   have  broached   my  purposes  to  my 


8  Thomas   J.  Mumford. 

family  and  to  some  of  my  friends.  The  former  as- 
sent, only  regretting  that  I  am  not  to  be  the  advo- 
cate of  their  faith.  Some  of  the  latter  with  whom 
I  have  conversed  about  the  expense  of  time  and 
money  which  will  be  incurred,  hint  that  most  clergy- 
men are  starved  into  silence  concerning  popular  sins, 
etc. ;  but  I  tell  them  I  will  be  content  with  a  moderate 
share  of  this  world's  goods,  if  I  can  only  live  a  true 
life,  serving  God  and  doing  good  to  my  fellow-men. 
Is  it  unreasonable  to  suppose  that  an  earnest,  indus- 
trious, and  competent  minister  can  somewhere  find 
hearers  and  the  means  of  living .? 

March  S,   1S49. 

My  dear  Friend, —  Agreeably  to  the  promise  made 
at  the  close  of  the  pleasant  visit  which  I  enjoyed  at 
your  house  a  few  weeks  since,  I  will  now  write  an 
account  of  my  progress  and  prospects. 

My  strong  dislike  of  pecuniary  dependence  has  led 
me  to  accept  several  offers  of  brief  but  lucrative 
employment,  and  therefore  I  have  not,  according  to 
my  purpose  at  the  time  of  our  last  conversation,  de- 
voted all  of  my  time  to  study. 

Oat  of  the  course  which  you  have  so  kindly  sug- 
gested, I  have  read  the  first  volume  of  Macaulay's 
History,  Channing's  essay  on  "The  Duty  of  the 
Free  States,"  his  letter  on  "  Creeds,"  and  several  of 
his  discourses.  Among  the  last,  I  have  experienced 
most  exquisite  pleasure  in  reading  those  entitled 
"Christianity  a  Rational  Religion,"  "The  Church," 
and  "Spiritual  Freedom."  These  breathe  the  spirit 
which    I    trust    animates    me,    and    their    trains    of 


Life  and  Letters.  q 

thought  have  often  passed  through  my  own  mind. 
I  am,  of  course,  in  many  respects  at  a  vast  distance 
from  Dr.  Channing;  but  I  am  near  enough  to  know 
and  feel  and  rejoice  that  there  is  between  us  a  pure 
and  joyous  spiritual  communion.  In  the  writings  of 
no  other  man  do  I  meet  witli  thoughts  that  find  so 
perfect  an  echo  in  my  highest  convictions  of  right, 
and  so  cordial  a  response  in  my  noblest  sense  of 
duty.  I  feel  that  I  cannot  be  too  grateful  to  Heaven 
for  having  sent  such  a  hero  soul  before  me,  and  I 
know  of  no  better  way  of  evincing  my  gratitude  than 
by  emulating  to  the  uttermost  verge  of  my  ability 
his  bright  and  lofty  example. 

I  have  also  read  Parker's  sermon  on  "  The  Idea  of 
a  Christian  Church,"  with  which  I  was  much  pleased. 
The  fresh,  vigorous,  and  free  style  with  which  his 
keen  perceptions  of  the  beautiful,  the  true,  and  the 
absurd  compel  him  to  clothe  his  thoughts,  gives  a 
charm  to  his  writings  which  will  always  secure  them 
many  delighted  readers ;  but  I  prefer  the  closer  rea- 
soning and  the  more  tranquil  (and  yet  not  less  strong 
and  triumphant)  faith  which  distinguish  the  works  of 
Channing. 

I  have  also  read  Mr.  Furness'  sermon  on  "  The 
Nature  and  Uses  of  Public  Worship,"  delivered  in 
New  York  and  published  in  the  Tribune  about  a  fort- 
night ago.  His  thoughts  are  mine,  and  I  think  you 
will  not  object  to  any  of  them.  In  any  event,  I  shall 
be  glad  to  learn  your  opinion. 

Sunday  mornings  I  devote  to  the  reading  of  the 
Scriptures.     In    the   afternoons,  I  attend  Episcopal 


lo  Thomas   J.  AhiDiford. 

service  with  the  other  members  of  my  family.  A 
few  Sundays  since,  my  good  friend  Mr.  M.  preached 
an  able  and  most  pointed  sermon  against  Unita- 
rianism.  He  relied  mainly  on  the  text  which  in- 
quires how  Christ  could  be  both  David's  Lord  and 
Son.  Many  of  my  friends  call  the  discourse  tri- 
umphant ;  but  they  have  only  heard  the  advocate  of 
one  side  of  the  question. 

As  I  expected,  I  am  somewhat  annoyed  by  the 
horror  expressed,  with  uplifted  hands  and  mournful 
voice,  by  some  of  my  friends  when  they  speak  of  the 
awful  peril  to  which  I  have  exposed  my  soul.  Their 
frequent  allusions  to  my  father's  orthodoxy  in  con- 
trast with  my  heterodoxy,  although  doubtless  well 
meant,  are  not  always  either  delicate  or  agreeable. 
But  what  are  these  petty  trials  compared  with  the 
self-contempt  which  attends  the  profession  of  a  faith 
which  the  reason  rejects,  and  to  which  the  heart  will 
not  respond  .-'  No  person  who  knows  what  Unitari- 
anism  is  has  yet  attacked  me,  and  I  am  glad  of  it. 
I  want  my  time  for  undisturbed  study  and  reflection 
upon  truths  which  even  bigots  believe  and  neglect. 
Although  prone  to  well-conducted  debate,  I  do  not 
desire  to  erect  the  structure  of  my  theological  edu- 
cation, after  the  manner  of  certain  builders  of  old, 
with  a  trowel  in  one  hand  and  a  sword  in  the  other, 
and  I  trust  I  shall  be  spared  the  disagreeable  neces- 
sity. At  the  same  time,  however,  I  am  not  ashamed 
of  my  faith,  and  shall  not  shrink  from  its  vindication 
on  all  proper  occasions. 


in. 

PREPARING  FOR  MEADVILLE. 

Interest  in  his  Studies. — Paley  Arraigned.  —  Anti-Slavery 
Sympathies.  —  Ideal  of  the  Ministry.  —  Theological  Dis- 
cussions. 

March  22,  1S49. 

Dear  Friend, —  During  the  last  fortnight,  I  have 
studied  constantly  and  satisfactorily.  I  have  read 
Paley's  "  Natural  Theology"  with  the  most  careful  at- 
tention, and  think  I  have  obtained  a  pretty  thorough 
knowledge  of  the  work.  The  edition  which  I  read 
contains  notes  by  Sir  Charles  Bell,  Lord  Brougham, 
and  Dr.  —  now  Bishop — Potter.  In  connection  with 
Paley's  chapters  on  the  subject,  I  read  many  pages  in 
several  works  on  physiology.  In  the  "Theology"  I 
have  found  much  to  admire,  and  some  things  to 
which  I  cannot  now  assent.  Those  passages  which 
seem  to  imply  a  belief  that  the  slaughter  of  human 
beings  on  the  field  of  battle  is  one  of  God's  provisions 
for  counteracting  the  superfecundity  of  our  species 
shocked  me  most.  I  have  always  disliked  the  school 
of  writers  who  advocate  the  theory  of  population 
broached,  I  believe,  by  Mai  thus,  and  in  part  in- 
dorsed by  Dr.   Chalmers. 

I  am  surprised  that  the  clear-sighted  Paley  coun- 
tenanced the  horrible  idea  that  war  is  one  of  the 
heaven-appointed  means  of  ridding  countries  of  their 


12  Thomas   J.  Miiniford. 

surplus  inhabitants.  It  seems  to  me  that  a  Chris- 
tian statesman  would  find  in  emigration  and  the 
breaking  up  of  immense  landed  estates  a  much  more 
effective  and  far  less  objectionable  cure  for  the  evil. 

Do  you  not  think  the  "Theology"  incomplete.'* 
A  system  of  "natural  theology"  should  be  built 
upon  facts  concerning  our  moral  and  mental  consti- 
tutions, as  well  as  the  mechanism  of  the  material 
world.  .  .  . 

Since  I  decided  to  study  for  the  ministry,  I  have 
received  an  offer  of  a  somewhat  attractive  situation 
in  a  newspaper  establishment,  procured  for  me  by 
an  influential  friend,  to  whom  I  had  applied  several 
months  before.  I  was  very  sorry  to  disappoint  him  ; 
but  I  could  not  avoid  doing  so  without  changing  my 
plans  of  study,  and  repressing  what  I  believe  to  be 
the  promptings  of  duty. 

My  interest  in  the  subject  of  my  studies  increases 
daily.  In  contemplating  the  glorious  attributes  of 
God,  and  in  cherishing  the  proper  notions  of  the 
dignity  of  human  nature,  I  experience  great  and 
growing  delight.  I  regret  that  I  cannot  be  near  you, 
and  enjoy  the  pleasure  and  profit  of  frequent  conver- 
sations ;  but  perhaps  the  lesson  of  self-dependence 
will,  in  part,   compensate  for  the  j^rivation. 

May  i8,  1849. 

Since  my  return  from  Syracuse,  I  have  studied 
regularly,  with  great  enjoyment  and  profit.  Mr.  W. 
takes  the  Christian  Register,  and  by  exchanging  with 
him    I   read   l)oth    papers.      I   like   the   Inquirer  best. 


Life  and  Letter's .  15 

Its  notices  of  the  Anniversaries  were  capital,  and 
more  liberal  than  I  had  expected.  What  is  said 
of  the  Meadville  School  is  very  proper.  I  suppose 
the  comparison  instituted  between  Meadville  and 
Cambridge  was  intended  to  remove  any  jealousy 
which  might  exist  among  the  friends  of  the  latter, 
and  not  to  directly  assert  that  Meadville  would  fur- 
nish the  privates,  and  Cambridge  the  officers,  of  the 
society.  However,  such  matters  will  regulate  them- 
selves. 

I  am  very  much  interested  in  the  emancipation 
movement  which  is  going  on  so  bravely  in  Kentucky. 
When  I  read  the  proceedings  of  the  late  convention 
at  Frankfort,  I  was  overjoyed,  for  I  thought  that  the 
South  would  yet  be  redeemed  from  the  Slave  Power 
which  has  so  long  crushed  and  disgraced  her.  I  feel 
so  much  on  the  subject  that  if  1  had  no  other  plans 
of  duty,  I  think  I  should  go  to  Kentucky  and  enlist 
in  the  army  of  Freedom. 

June  9,  1S49. 

The  Progressive  Quakers  have  just  closed  their 
first  yearly  meeting.  It  was  well  attended,  and  they 
seem  to  be  delighted  with  the  result  of  their  labors. 
Lucretia  Mott,  Oliver  Johnson,  and  Joseph  Dugdale 
of  Ohio,  were  among  the  chief  speakers.  Among  the 
addresses  issued  by  the  meeting  is  an  excellent  one 
"To  Reformers,"  from  the  pen  of  Oliver  Johnson. 
Mrs.  Mott  spoke  to  a  large  audience  in  the  court- 
house, last  Tuesday  evening.  She  is  a  noble  woman, 
and  I  think  her  discourse  will  aid  the  cause  of  Lib- 
eral Christianity  in  this  vicinity. 


14  Thomas   J.  Mnuifoid. 

Mr.  W.  has  furnished  me  with  tracts,  which  I  have 
circulated  among  my  friends,  —  some  of  whom  read 
them  willingly  and  attentii'ely. 

July  22,  1849. 

I  have  six  weeks  more  for  reading  before  I  start 
for  Meadville.  I  continue  to  recite  in  Greek  regu- 
larly. 

You  once  asked  me  whether  I  wished  you  to  pro- 
cure for  me  the  stipend  which  the  American  Uni- 
tarian Association  allows  indigent  students  for  the 
ministry.  After  due  deliberation,  I  have  resolved 
not  to  ask  for  any  such  aid.  I  am  well  aware  that  a 
student  is  almost  necessarily  a  consninc)',  when  by 
engaging  in  other  pursuits  he  might  be  a  producer  of 
money ;  and  that  if  he  is  not  rich,  yet  disposed  to 
effect  his  education  without  foreign  aid,  he  must 
practise  self-denial  and  close  economy ;  but,  having  a 
strong  and  almost  romantic  love  of  independence^ 
while  I  have  youth,  health,  and  strength,  I  cannot 
consent  to  be  the  recipient  of  anything  that  looks 
like  charity.  If  I  err  in  this,  the  error  is  venial,  for 
it  springs  from  a  dread  of  dependence  and  the  ser- 
vility which  it  so  often  breeds. 

I  read  Dr.  Bellows'  letter,  in  which  he  speaks  at 
great  length  of  the  Meadville  School.  His  style 
is  always  animated  and  pleasing,  and  the  informa- 
tion which  he  furnished  was  very  interesting  to  me.. 
Notwithstanding  a  different  feeling  on  the  first  hasty 
reading,  his  representations  make  me  more  willing 
than  ever  to  attend  the  institution. 

I   could  not  help  smiling  when  I   read   the  grave 


Life  and  Letters.  15 

remarks  of  certain  "well-paid"  clergymen  who,  at  a 
meeting  in  Boston  during  Anniversary  week,  men- 
tioned one  hundred  and  one  hundred  and  fifty  dollars 
as  ample  incomes  for  men  engaged  in  the  work 
for  which  the  students  at  Meadville  are  preparing ; 
and    my    mirth   was    again    provoked   when    I    saw 

Dr.  's  complimentary  allusion    to    the   minister 

on  Long  Island,  who  occupies  the  box  of  the  stage- 
coach in  the  week  and  the  pulpit  on  Sunday.  I 
agree  with  the  good  divines  when  they  pronounce 
such  men  instruments  of  much  good ;  but  I  have 
no  desire  to  engage  in  the  profession  under  similar 
circumstances.  Dr.  Dewey,  in  his  article  on  the 
"Pulpit,"  etc.,  expresses  the  true  idea  of  what  the 
ministry  is,  and  what  it  should  be.  If  I  am  not 
greatly  deceived,  the  times  now  demand  ministers 
free  from  aristocratic  tendencies  and  false  notions 
of  refinement,  and  as  far  removed  from  coarseness, 
ignorance,  and  vulgarity  ;  men  inspired  with  a  sense 
of  the  dignity  and  responsibility  of  their  office,  well- 
informed  on  the  great  subjects  of  which  they  are  to 
speak,  abounding  in  genuine  delicacy  and  refinement, 
and  yet  able  to  tolerate,  appreciate,  and  in  some 
measure  supply,  the  intellectual,  moral,  and  spiritual 
wants  of  all  their  hearers.  I  despise  arrogance,  fas- 
tidiousness, and  pedantry  as  cordially  as  I  dislike 
servility,  vulgarity,  and  ignorance.  The  middle  class 
has  ever  been  the  best  in  society ;  and,  desiring  to 
be  one  of  its  ministers,  and  believing  that  Meadville 
affords  the  necessary  means  of  preparation  for  such 
a  station,  I  shall  attend  the  school  gladly. 


1 6  Thovias    J.   ]\Inniford. 

My  friends,  the  Rev.  Messrs.  and  ,  are 

very  polite  to  me,  but  not  quite  as  friendly  as  of  old. 

Within  a  few  months,  Mr. has  ceased  to  call  me 

by  the  familiar  title  of  "Thomas,"  substituting  there- 
for "  Mr.  Mumford."  Why  the  old  gentleman  has 
made  this  change,  I  cannot  divine.  He  may  mean  to 
pay  respect  to  "  the  cloth  "  ;  or  he  may  think  that  in 
wandering  from  his  flock  and  becoming  a  Unitarian 
I  ha\'e  lost  my  Christian  name. 

Mr. and  I  had  a  pleasant  though  spirited  dis- 
cussion of  the  doctrine  of  the  Trinity,  a  few  evenings 
since.  He  repeated  the  story  about  Dr.  Channing's 
repentance  and  recantation,  and,  in  reply  to  some  of 
my  remarks,  impatiently  exclaimed,  "  If  the  giant 
mind  of  Newton  could  implicitly  receive  this  doctrine, 
it  does  not  become  ns  to  talk  about  its  reasonable- 
ness." Now,  passing  by  his  argument,  which  if  valid 
is  very  weak,  I  wish  to  ask  you  if  it  was  possible  that 
I  was  in  error  when  I  replied  that  his  example  was 
extremely  unfortunate,  for  Newton's  Unitarianism 
is  well-known.  He  very  flatly,  yet  politely,  contra- 
dicted this  assertion.  Since  the  conversation,  I  have 
noticed  that  Dr.  Channing  repeatedly  claims  Newton 
as  a  Unitarian;  and  in  the  "Encyclopaedia  Ameri- 
cana" and  the  "Cyclopaedia  of  English  Literature,"  I 
find  statements  which  imply  the  same  fact.  Is  there 
any  doubt  about  Newton's  faith  .-'... 

The  books  you  mention  —  De  Wettc,  Herder,  and 
the  "Philosophical  Miscellanies" — are  very  attrac- 
tive. I  long  to  read  them,  but  dare  not  gratify  my 
inclination    at    this  time.      I    have    reviewed    almost 


Life  and  Letters. 

every  text-book  which  I  liave  read,  and  have  no 
great  desire  to  go  over  them  again  at  present ;  but  my 
pride  and  dread  of  mortification  prompt  me  to  deny 
myself  the  reading  of  the  books  of  my  choice,  and  to 
apply  myself  for  the  next  three  weeks  almost  exclu- 
sively to  the  books  upon  which  I  am  to  be  examined. 
I  am  confident  that  I  now  have  a  good  knowledge  of 
them  ;  but,  to  avoid  all  slips  of  the  memory,  I  su|)pose 
a  general  review  is  necessary. 


IV. 

IN  THE  THEOLOGICAL  SCHOOL. 

Opinion  of  the  School.  —  Fidelity  to  its  Rules.  —  Hopes  to 
be  a  Good  Pastor.  —  Views  of  Non-Resistance.  —  First 
Attempt  at  Preaching.  —  Philanthropic  Zeal.  —  Ill- 
Health.  —  Longs  for  Spiritual  Culture.  —  Regard  for 
Sca/idlin. 

Meadville,  March  28,  1850. 

My  dear  Friend, —  You  cannot  imagine  how  much 
I  have  been  benefited  by  your  simple  words  of 
kindness  and  affection.  I  trust  that  I  am  moved 
to  the  discharge  of  duty  by  higher  considerations; 
but  words  of  cTieer  from  a  friend  to  whom  I  am  so 
strongly  attached  incite  mc  to  renewed  exertions, 
while  they  cause  my  heart  to  leap  and  sing  for  joy. 
I  need  not  assure  you  that  your  feelings  of  kind  re- 
gard are  reciprocated. 

I  have  now  been  in  Meadville  about  twenty-nine 
weeks.  I  am  satisfied  that  my  sojourn  has  been, 
upon  the  whole,  a  pleasant  and  profitable  one,  and  I 
trust  I  shall  never  repent  it.  My  health  has  been 
uncommonly  vigorous.  I  liave  won  the  confidence 
of  several  excellent  friends,  and  I  have  pursued  my 
studies  with  diligence.  For  several  years  before  I 
left  liome  I  was  accustomed  to  spend  almost  the 
whole  day  in  uninterrupted  study,  and  I  apprehended 


Life  and  Letters.  19 

some  difficulty  in  adaptin-;  ni)-self  to  the  regular 
recitations  of  a  school ;  but  I  have  been  agreeably 
disappointed.  When  I  entered  the  institution,  I  re- 
solved to  discharge  every  known  duty,  and  I  confi- 
dently believe  that  that  resolution  has  been  kept  most 
faithfully.  Out  of  three  hundred  recitations  which 
it  has  been  my  duty  to  attend,  I  have  been  absent 
from  only  one,  and  then  I  was  unwell.  I  have  never 
been  late  at  any  recitation.  Out  of  one  hundred  and 
thirty  chapel  exercises,  I  have  missed  only  one,  and 
at  that  time  a  notice  of  a  change  in  the  hour  had 
been  misunderstood  by  me.  Out  of  one  hundred 
social  meetings,  debates,  preachings  by  seniors,  and 
lectures,  I  have  missed  but  one,  and  at  that  time  I 
was  not  well. 

I  was  very  glad  to  find  the  tone  of  the  students,  in 
respect  to  the  great  humanitary  reforms  which  are 
the  glory  of  our  age,  so  healthy  and  active. 

The  school  is  really  a  moral  oasis  in  the  desert  of 
a  conservative  community.  In  all  his  arduous  and 
painful,  yet  heroic  efforts  for  the  sacred  cause  of 
humanity,  Mr.  Stebbins  has  the  pleasing  satisfaction 
of  knowing  that  his  pupils  are,  almost  to  a  man,  his 
devoted  friends,  admirers,  and  coadjutors. 

My  dear  friend,  I  hope  you  will  pardon  me  for 
yielding  to  the  promptings  of  a  full  heart,  and 
repeating  expressions  of  affection  and  gratitude. 
Not  a  day  passes  in  which  I  do  not  remember  your 
kindness  ;  and  I  fondly  trust  that  when  you  become 
fully  acquainted  with  me,  you  will  find  me  not  un- 
worthy of  your  confidence  and  regard. 


20  Thomas   J.   Minnford. 

Hoping  that  God  will  bless  you   in    all  your  rela- 
tions and  labors,  and  that  you  may  be  forever  happy, 
I  am  your  grateful  and  affectionate  friend, 

Thomas  J.  Mumford. 

Meadville,  May  iS,  1S50. 

My  dear  Friend, —  I  know  that  you  will  be  pleased 
to  learn  that  the  standard  of  Reform  still  floats  from 
our  school.  Your  remarks  upon  the  duty  of  our 
nation  and  the  sad  apostasy  of  Daniel  Webster  de- 
lighted me.     "You  gave  me  my  own  thoughts." 

Each  day  adds  depth  to  the  conviction  that  I  shall 
be  more  useful  and  happier  in  the  Christian  ministry 
than  I  can  be  in  any  other  sphere.  I  feel  that  I  can 
give  my  whole  soul  to  the  work.  Ever  since  I  was 
a  small  boy,  I  aspired  to  be  a  public  speaker,  and  all 
my  reading  and  observation  have  been  made  to  bear 
on  the  duties  of  such  a  vocation.  But  I  think  I 
shall  succeed  best  as  a  pastor.  I  do  love  to  hold  in- 
timate communion  with  the  spirits  of  my  fellow-men. 
I  could  find  my  highest  joy  in  sympathizing  with 
the  poor  and  the  suffering.  I  scout  the  idea  that 
there  is,  or  can  be,  any  such  being  as  an  entirely 
hopeless  and  totally  depraved  sinner  ;  and  I  think 
nothing  could  dishearten  me  if  I  were  laboring  to 
reclaim  the  abandoned.  I  have  never  found  any 
difficulty  in  gaining  the  confidence  of  those  with 
whom  I  have  associated ;  and  I  know  that  I  have 
aided  a  few  of  my  unfortunate  brethren  by  con- 
vincing them  of  my  love,  and  by  assisting  in  the 
resurrection  of  their  self-respect. 


Life  and  Letters.  21 

On  some  subjects,  where  my  mind  has  been  held 
in  suspense,  I  have  come  to  decided  opinions,  since  I 
last  saw  you  ;  but  I  think  that  on  only  one  important 
question  have  I  had  occasion  to  chani^e.  You  may 
remember  that  I  once  told  you  that,  while  I  con- 
demned all  ordinary  wars,  etc.,  I  thought  I  could  take 
life  in  defence  of  life,  liberty,  and  chastity.  I  have 
reviewed  Dymond  with  Mr.  Stebbins,  and  I  have 
been  compelled  to  hold  that  nothing  short  of  entire 
non-resistance  will  satisfy  the  Christian  law.  Re- 
sistance may  sometimes  appear  to  be  clearly  expe- 
dient ;  but  I  now  hope  that,  should  the  hour  of  trial 
ever  come  to  me,  I  may  be  able  to  act  up  to  my  con- 
viction of  duty,  obeying  implicitly  the  Divine  law, 
and  submitting  cheerfully  to  every  sacrifice,  in  the 
calm,  firm  trust  that  all  will  be  well  in  the  end, — 
that  God  will  vindicate  his  own  truth. 

Of  late  I  have  had  much  pleasant  intercourse 
with  Mr.  Stebbins.  I  think  a  con\-ersation  with  him 
would  be  of  great  service  to  you,  when  you  come  to 
advise  me  about  my  future  course. 

We  are  great  admirers  of  Horace  Mann.  How 
nobh'  has  he  rebuked  Webster !  Mr.  Mann's  style 
is  apt  to  be  too  intense  and  over-emphatic ;  but  his 
loyalty  to  truth  and  freedom  is  most  refreshing  in 
these  degenerate  days.  I  have  predicted  that  he 
is  soon  to  be  Governor  of  Massachusetts,  or  to 
supersede  the  arch  apostate  in  the  Senate  of  the 
United  States.  I  have  been  interested  in  the  pro- 
ceedings at  the  Anniversaries  of  the  American  Anti- 
Slavery  Society.      I  was  suri)rised,  and  deeply  pained, 


22  Thomas   J.  Ahuiiford. 

to  hear  of  the  success  of  the  mob.  I  blush  for  the 
great  city  of  our  Empire  State.  The  Brooklynites 
behaved  nobly.  I  think  they  were  a  little  indiscreet 
in  befriending  Wendell  Phillips.  In  one  respect  they 
may  find  that,  in  their  generosity,  they  have  got 
the  Trojan  horse  within  their  walls.  He  must  be 
rather  a  dangerous  man  for  orthodox  and  conserva- 
tive, but  candid  and  virtuous,  young  men  and  women 
to  listen  to. 

Waterloo,  N.Y.,  July  3,  1850. 

I  have  been  urged  to  preach  here,  and  some  of  my 
.acquaintances  at  Seneca  Falls  told  me  yesterday  that 
they  would  get  up  a  meeting  as  soon  as  possible.  I 
had  made  so  many  warm  friends  in  Meadville  that, 
when  I  left  on  my  vacation,  it  seemed  almost  like 
going  away  from  home.  I  am  very  sorry  to  think 
that  Mr,  Stebbins  is  to  leave  the  school.  He  is  the 
prince  of  professors  and  the  idol  of  every  student. 

If  I  do  not  attend  the  convention,  shall  I  come  to 
Syracuse  the  third  Sunday  in  July  .■' 

Aug.  9,  1850. 

I  am  glad  to  know  that  my  services  were  accept- 
able to  your  people,  I  preached  in  Seneca  Falls,  last 
Sunday  afternoon.  The  other  churches  had  ser- 
vices at  the  same  hour,  but  I  had  from  one  hundred 
to  one  hundred  and  fifty  hearers.  All  seemed  atten- 
tive, and  several  good  Methodist  brethren  tarried  to 
thank  me,  and  bid  me  Godspeed.  Next  Sunday 
evening,  I  shall  preach  here  in  the  court-house. 
We  did  not  apply  for  any  of  the  churches,  thinking 
it  not  best  to  trouble  them  to  refuse. 


Life  and  Letters.  23 

Meadville,  Dec.  10,  1850. 
My  dear  Friend,  —  Let  me  write  to  you  on  a  sub- 
ject which  has  occupied  my  thoughts  much  of  late. 
Love  to  God  and  love  to  man  are  the  great  precepts 
of  religion ;  and  they  are  generally  said  to  be  of 
equal  importance,  to  claim  cciual  attention  from  the 
minds  and  pens  and  tongues  of  true  Christians.  But, 
to  employ  a  figure  of  doubtful  dignity,  how  few  men, 
how  very  few  ministers,  drive  Piety  and  Philanthropy 
abreast !  Almost  all  drive  them  tandem.  Most  min- 
isters put  Piety  "  on  the  lead  "  ;  but  a  large  and  rap- 
idly increasing  class  put  Philanthropy  first.  I  am 
a  little  troubled  because  my  own  mind  is  so  wont  to 
dwell  on  "moral"  rather  than  "religious"  subjects. 
I  cherish  a  sense  of  dependence  on  God,  and  a 
cheerful  trust  in  his  providence.  I  feel  the  impor- 
tance of  always  remembering  that  his  eye  is  ever 
upon  us,  that  his  "inclining  ear"  is  ever  ready  to 
hear  our  petitions ;  but  I  must  confess  that  my 
thoughts  are  devoted  chiefly  to  mankind,  to  their 
natures,  duties,  destinies.  I  felt  called  to  the  work 
of  the  ministry  by  the  pressing  demand  for  more 
abundant  and  faithful  preaching  of  "  peace  on  earth, 
good-will  to  men."  During  the  last  fortnight,  I  have 
often  examined  myself  concerning  my  fitness  for  the 
Christian  ministry.  I  have  faith  in  God.  I  love  and 
reverence  Christ.  The  Christian  religion  is  inex- 
pressibly dear  to  me.  My  heart  burns  within  me 
when  I  read  the  memoirs  of  Channing  and  Follen, 
and  the  Wares  and  Peabodys.  I  love  my  fellow-men. 
I  have  no  unkind  feeling's  towards  anv  human  beins:. 


24  Thomas   J.  Mmnford. 

I  know  that  I  am  deeply  concerned  for  the  weak,  the 
oppressed,  the  tempted,  and  the  fallen.  I  long  to  lay 
bare  the  wrong  which  sin  does  to  the  soul,  and  to  por- 
tray the  beauties  and  joys  of  holiness.  I  am  almost 
sure  that  neither  wealth  nor  fame  nor  friendship 
•could  tempt  me  to  sacrifice  my  integrity.  I  cherish  a 
kind  of  spirit  of  martyrdom.  I  have  a  deep,  earnest 
longing  to  spend  and  be  spent  in  some  good  work, 
however  unpromising  and  odious.  I  would  rather  go 
through  this  land  in  rags,  "a  hatless  prophet," 
preaching  needed  truth  kindly  but  boldly,  than  to  be 
the  well-paid  pet  of  the  most  aristocratic  society. 
My  day-dreams  and  my  visions  of  the  night  are  of 
■doing  good  to  my  fellow-men,  especially  to  those 
whom  the  world  despises  and  dreads.  And  when  I 
sit  down  to  write,  "justification  by  faith,"  etc.,  etc., 
do  not  present  themselves  as  candidates  for  my 
attention.  And  what  is  perhaps  worst  of  all,  while 
I  know  that  I  do  not  conform  to  the  standard  which 
so  many  erect  for  the  Christian  minister,  my  heart 
won't  condemn  me.  I  cannot  persuade  myself  that 
I  have  mistaken  the  wants  of  the  age,  my  own  mis- 
sion, and  that  of  Liberal  Christians  generally.  I 
cannot  bring  myself  to  believe  that  my  position  is  at 
all  deplorable.  Do  not  misunderstand  me.  I  would 
not  slight  devotion.  I  expect  to  preach  a  great 
many  sermons  on  subjects  strictly  "religious."  I 
only  say  that  I  feel  called  chiefly  to  another  work, — 
to  that  of  redeeming  mankind  from  ignorance,  sin, 
and  misery.  In  short,  I  am  probably  too  much  in- 
clined to  be  "nothing,  if  not  practical." 


Life  and  Letters.  25 

March  6,  1851. 

Our  second  term  commenced  about  four  weeks 
ago.  During  the  winter  vacation,  I  was  quite  un- 
well, having  a  very  severe  cold,  and  an  increased 
noise  in  my  head.  I  was  confined  to  the  house,  and 
unable  to  read  the  simplest  book  with  any  satisfac- 
tion. My  cold  is  gone,  but  my  head  is  still  the  scene 
of  a  terrible  commotion.  I  have  attended  all  the  ex- 
ercises of  my  class,  and  applied  myself  to  study  more 
diligently  than  ever  before,  but  I  can  accomplish 
little.  In  all  my  life,  I  have  never  suffered  half  so 
much  in  mind  as  during  the  last  month.  Sometimes 
my  total  defeat  in  repeated  attempts  to  study  has 
made  me  almost  frantic.  I  suppose  that  even  in  my 
disabled  condition,  I  can  manage  to  drag  through  the 
exercises  here  and  graduate  next  summer  with  the 
commendation  of  my  teachers  ;  but  I  fear  that  in  that 
event  I  shall  not  feel  qualified  to  commence  preach- 
ing regularly.  I  am  at  a  loss  what  to  do.  My  gen- 
eral health  is  not  at  all  robust.  The  work  of  the 
ministry  has  grown  upon  me  during  the  past  year. 
I  now  see  and  feel  that  when  I  commenced  my 
studies  I  had  no  adequate  conception  of  its  responsi- 
bilities, toils,  and  rewards.  I  have  been  gradually 
opening  my  eyes  upon  the  sad  religious  insensibility 
of  my  own  heart,  and  the  hearts  of  the  companions  of 
my  youth.  I  trust  I  now  begin  to  realize  the  nature 
and  importance  of  spiritual  things  and  the  interior 
life.  On  two  accounts,  therefore,  —  first,  the  state  of 
my  health  ;  second,  to  increase  my  heart  preparation 
for  the  ministry,  —  I   feel  that  it  is  better  for   me 


26  TJwvias  J.  Mnvifoi-d. 

not  to  enter  the  field  this  summer.  I  know  that  if 
God  blesses  me  with  a  return  of  health  and  strength, 
in  another  year  I  can  accomplish  far  more  than  I 
have  yet  done.  Can  you  give  me  any  advice  .-'  The 
state  of  my  head  makes  me  very  sad.  I  am  very 
anxious  to  determine  upon  some  plan  for  the  future. 
My  mind  is  now  in  a  state  of  painful  uncertainty. 

March  21,  1S51. 

Since  I  wrote  my  last  letter,  my  health  has  im- 
proved somewhat,  although  the  sounds  in  my  head 
continue  to  torment  me.  I  have  resolved  to  remain 
here,  studying  as  well  as  I  can,  and  graduate  with 
my  class,  in  June.  Mr,  Stebbins  thinks  I  had  better 
preach  during  the  summer ;  and  in  the  fall,  if  I  feel 
unable  to  undertake  the  work  regularly  without 
further  preparation,  I  can  spend  another  year  here, 
or  take  some  small  society  where  I  can  have  leisure 
for  study. 

Within  six  months,  I  have  had  my  eyes  opened  to 
the  greatness  and  glory  of  the  work  of  a  Christian 
minister.  It  was  with  deep  shame  and  sorrow  that  I 
became  convinced  that  my  own  standard  had  been 
too  low.  I  had  been  charmed  by  the  ethics  of  the 
gospel.  I  am  earnestly  seeking  to  know  and  feel 
more  of  its  spiritual  power.  James  Freeman  Clarke's 
sermons  have  been  of  great  service  to  me.  I  now 
hope  that  I  have  commenced  a  truly  religious  life, 
believing  not  only  with  the  intellect,  but  with  the 
heart.  However,  I  feel  as  if  I  needed  to  gain  more 
light   and    strength    before  I  undertake  to  lead  the 


Life  mid  Letters.  27 

people.  ...  I  was  glad  to  see  that  glorious  George 
Thompson  received  so  glorious  a  welcome  to  Syra- 
cuse. It  must  have  been  a  time  of  great  satisfaction 
and  joy  for  you  all.  How  different  from  some  of  the 
scenes  in  which  you  were  actors  sixteen  years  ago ! 
Such  comparisons  are  more  than  mile-stones  on  the 
road  to  Truth. 

April  6,  1851. 

My  very  dear  Friend  and  Father,  —  The  reading 
of  a  letter  from  you  did  "  cheer  a  gloomy  moment, " 
I  can  assure  you.  I  wish  I  could  half  express  the 
thrill  of  joy  occasioned  by  the  sight  of  your  well- 
known  superscription,  and  the  lively  pleasure  I  ex- 
perienced in  reading  the  words  of  kindness  and 
sympathy  which  I  knew  your  heart  had  promptly 
dictated,  whether  your  pen  had  had  leisure  to  record 
them  or  not.  I  thank  you  for  them.  They  have  done 
me  much  good,  besides  strengthening  and  deepening 
my  affection  for  their  author. 

My  health  continues  to  improve  steadily.  The 
noises  in  my  head  are  very  loud,  but  since  my  mind 
has  been  more  at  ease  I  have  suffered  far  less. 

About  a  fortnight  ago,  Mr.  Stebbins  addressed  me 
in  the  kindest  manner,  and  told  me  not  to  permit 
fears  of  having  to  enter  the  ministry  without  suffi- 
cient preparation  to  make  me  unhappy.  He  said, 
"  Go  on  with  your  studies  as  well  as  you  can,  grad- 
uate, and  preach  two  or  three  months.  Then,  if 
your  health  is  restored,  and  you  feel  as  if  you  could 
not  get  along  without  a  better  preparation,  come 
back  and  spend  another  year  with  us,  renewing  your 


28  Thomas   J.  l\Iiwiford. 

studies,  and  reading  whatever  may  seem  useful  to 
you."  I  thanked  him,  and  have  since  felt  much 
relieved. 

As  I  have  written  to  you  before,  I  have  just  had 
my  spiritual  eyes  couched,  and  begin  to  realize  that 
there  is  an  "inner  life,"  the  glories  of  which  I  had 
never  imagined.  But  it  will  take  me  a  long  time  to 
change  the  current  of  my  thoughts.  Instead  of 
thinking  of  giving  up  the  ministry,  I  have  now  a 
desire  to  enter  it  far  stronger  than  any  I  ever  felt 
before.  I  do  feel  that  it  is  absolutely  necessary  for 
me  to  devote  more  time  to  preparation  than  I  had  at 
first  intended.  I  must  have  more  time  to  become 
familiar  with  the  Bible,  and  more  time  for  spiritual 
culture.  I  have  no  doubt  I  could  begin  to  preach 
this  summer,  and  write  two  tilings  which  I  might  call 
sermons ;  but  they  would  consume  all  my  time,  and 
utterly  fail  of  making  me  contented.  I  fear  that  I 
could  not  live  "from  hand  to  mouth"  long,  without 
suffering  from  self-contempt  and  despondency.  I 
shall  be  very  glad  to  preach  a  few  months  this 
summer,  if  I  have  an  opportunity ;  but  I  must  post- 
pone entering  the  regular  service. 

There  are  now  in  this  school  several  young  men 
of  the  most  unquestionable  piety,  with  whom  it  is  my 
good  fortune  to  be  intimate.  I  must  mention  one  in 
particular,  William  Scandlin,  a  young  Englishman, 
lately  of  the  United  States  ship  "Ohio."  He  is  pre- 
paring to  be  Father  Taylor's  successor,  and,  if  I  am 
not  mistaken,  he  will  almost  make  the  noble  old 
man's  place  good.     Mr.  Scandlin  has  been  a  sailor 


Life  and  Letters.  29 

ev'cr  since  he  was  eight  years  old.  You  may  have 
heard  of  his  efforts  on  l)oard  the  "Ohio"  at  the  time 
so  many  of  her  crew  died  of  yellow  fever.  He  has 
a  rich,  deep  voice,  and  a  delivery  which  is  almost 
unexceptionable.  Then,  too,  he  is  so  brave  and 
active,  yet  gentle  as  a  woman.  His  education  is, 
of  course,  very  limited  ;  but  he  is  a  most  diligent 
student,  and  learns  rapidly.  He  is  already  a  non- 
resistant,  and  much  interested  in  the  anti-slavery 
movement. 

I  am,  as  ever,  your  grateful  and  affectionate  friend, 

Thomas  J.  Mumford. 

Samuel  J.  May. 


V. 

LIFE  IN  DETROIT. 

Leaves  Meadville.  —  Character  and  Prospects  of  the  Detroit 
Movement.  —  Frankness  and  Fidelity.  —  Extracts  from 
First  Sermons.  —  Anti-Siavery  Sentiments.  —  Devotion 
to  Mr.  May.  —  Call  and  Ordination.  —  Remarks  on 
Boston  Ministers.  —  Missionary  JVork.  —  Building  the 
New  Church.  —  Unexpected  Disaster.  —  Trip  to  Boston. 
Marriage.  —  Bereavement. 

Detroit,  July  lo,  1851. 
My  dear  Friend,  —  On  W^ednesday  of  last  week,  j 
started  for  this  place.  Leaving  Meadville  was  like 
leaving  home.  I  had  no  idea  that  the  beautiful  vil- 
lage and  its  inhabitants  had  become  so  very  dear  to 
me,  until  the  stage  bore  me  up  College  Hill  and  I 
looked  back  upon  the  place.  Notwithstanding  my 
illness,  and  the  misery  occasioned  by  doubts  of  my 
fitness  for  my  calling,  I  can  now  look  back  upon  the 
scenes  of  the  last  two  years  with  almost  unalloyed 
pleasure.  It  is  true  that  I  have  not  made  the  prog- 
ress in  study  which  I  had  fondly  hoped  to  make,  but 
I  know  where  to  find  knowledge,  and  that  is  some- 
thing. I  cannot  tell  you  how  happy  all  my  social 
relations  have  been  !  Not  an  unkind  thought,  not 
an  ungentle  action,  have  I  known.  I  never  met  a 
person  who  did  not  contribute  to  my  happiness  ;  and 
the  manner  of  my  teachers,  fellow-students,  and  ac- 


Life  and  Letters.  3 1 

quaintances  assured  me  that  their  remembrance  of 
me  would  be  pleasant. 

Our  friends  here  meet  in  a  very  pleasant  place,  but 
it  is  an  "upper  room,"  in  the  third  story,  and  rather 
long  and  narrow.  Sunday  morning,  I  had  between 
seventy  and  eighty  hearers ;  in  the  afternoon,  about 
forty, —  the  usual  attendance. 

I  am  now  at  the  house  of  the  Treasurer  of  the 
Central  Railroad  Company.  He  is  a  very  fine  man, 
cultivated,  cheerful,  clear-minded,  and  large-hearted. 
Nine  of  the  gentlemen  connected  with  the  society 
are  employed  in  the  railroad  ofifice.  They  all  appear 
to  be  good  men ;  they  certainly  are  very  busy.  1 
find  a  great  many  old  acquaintances  here.  Three 
or  four  families  in  the  Unitarian  Society  are  from 
Waterloo.  Besides  these,  I  have  met  a  dozen  gen- 
tlemen of  other  persuasions,  whom  I  have  known  be- 
fore.    Several  of  them  came  to  hear  me,  last  Sunday. 

I  am  endeavoring  to  cultivate  my  religious  feelings 
more,  but  my  interest  in  the  great  philanthropic 
movements  is  unabated.  I  fear  that  the  people  here 
are  in  favor  of  obeying  the  laws,  howev^er  infernal 
they  may  be.  Of  course  I  shall  not  broach  such 
subjects  immediately;  but  before  I  accept  an  invita- 
tion to  remain  for  any  considerable  length  of  time,  I 
shall  feel  that  simple  honesty  requires  me  to  define 
my  position.  I  do  not  want  to  be  imprudent ;  I 
cannot  be  dumb,  I  feel  pretty  confident  that  a  man 
like  my  host  would  despise  a  time-server.  Indeed, 
all  men  would.  All  men  do  despise  the  poor  con- 
tcmptibles.     At  the  same  time  I  feel  my  own  wants : 


32  TJionias   J.   Miimford. 

I  need  a  more  spiritual  mind,  and  I  must  struggle  to 
obtain  it.     That  must  be  my  chief  concern  at  present. 

July  21,  1851. 

As  I  was  coming  up-stairs,  just  now,  I  remembered 
an  old  rule  of  health  which  I  have  heard  you  advo- 
cate :  "  Relax  mind  and  body  for  an  hour  after 
dinner."  There  is  no  one  near  me  with  whom  I 
care  to  be  cosey,  and  I  feel  inclined  to  reply  to  your 
letter,  even  if  my  promptitude  should  seem  amazing. 

I  need  not  repeat  what  I  have  so  often  said  about 
your  letters.  They  have,  in  times  past,  "made  a 
sunshine  in  a  shady  place";  and  now,  when  I  am 
comparatively  happy,  they  are  doubly  cheering. 

I  feel  the  force  of  your  remark,  that  I  shall  only 
learn  to  minister  by  ministering,  and  I  have  duly 
pondered  your  other  counsels.  My  health,  and  with 
it  my  spirits,  continue  to  improve.  I  have  been  very 
agreeably  disappointed  in  Detroit.  It  is  a  far  hand- 
somer place  than  I  had  supposed.  I  have  seldom 
enjoyed  a  walk  more  than  I  did  one  to  the  cemetery, 
last  evening.  I  think  the  people  are  interested  in 
my  services.  They  give  me  excellent  attention,  and 
I  am  frequently  urged  to  make  up  my  mind  to  settle 
here.  The  prospects  of  the  society  are  quite  encour- 
aging. They  tell  me  that  between  fifty  and  sixty 
gentlemen  subscribe  toward  the  support  of  the  mi-n- 
ister,  and  that  others  promise  to  do  so  as  soon  as  it 
ceases  to  be  an  experiment.  Very  few  persons  have 
called  on  me,  but  they  say  it  is  not  the  fashion  to 
visit  the  minister  in  this  section.     Wherever  I  go  I 


Life  and  Letters.  33 

receive  the  most  cordial  welcome.  Everybody  is 
very  kind.  And  now  that  I  have  set  forth  the  bright 
side,  let  me  say  something  about  the  dark. 

I  find  that  they  have  never  celebrated  the  Lord's 
Supper,  and  they  seem  disposed  to  postpone  doing  so 
until  they  shall  have  a  place  of  their  own.  This  is  a 
cause  of  regret  to  me ;  for  I  covet  the  opportunity  to 
impress  others, —  which  the  occasion  affords, —  and 
I  need  its  influence  myself. 

There  is  very  little  interest  in  the  reforms  mani- 
fested in  Detroit.  The  orthodo.x  ministers  advocate 
obedience  to  tJie  law,  and  capital  punishment.  The 
press  here  is  notoriously  time-serving.  Abuse  of  the 
abolitionists  and  sneers  at  the  "Higher  Law"  are 
its  favorite  topics.  In  our  society,  I  have  discovered 
quite  a  number  of  iiien  whose  political  views  are  of 
the  Seward  school.  One  of  our  trustees,  however, 
made  a  handsome  property  while  proprietor  of  a 
Cass  organ,  postmaster,  etc.  Thus  far,  I  have  had  no 
occasion  to  allude  to  slavery,  save  in  general  terms  ; 
but,  of  course,  with  my  convictions,  I  cannot  be 
always  dumb.  My  organ  of  caution  is  a  very  large 
one,  and  I  am  not  afraid  of  doing  anything  really 
rash;  but  I  am  puzzled  to  know  just  what  I  ought 
to  do.  I  am  young,  and  so  is  the  society ;  and  that 
fact  ought  to  make  us  both  modest.  But,  on  the 
other  hand,  I  cannot  preserve  my  self-respect  if  I 
keep  back  needed  truth,  nor  can  any  society  be  free 
from  rottenness  which  is  unwilling  to  bear  it. 

Again,  I  meet  with  wine  and  brandy  whenever  I 
enter  society.     The  president  of  our  society,  a  fine 


34  Thomas  J.  Miimford. 

man,  zvith  a  family  of  boys,  has  wine  at  dinner,  and 
seemed  a  little  surprised  because  I  would  not  partake. 
The  other  evening,  I  was  the  only  water-drinker  in  a 
circle  of  very  clever  people,  —  Episcopalians,  Presby- 
terians, and  Unitarians.  Even  the  ladies  seemed 
to  fancy  brandy  and  water !  If  I  stay,  they  may 
depend  upon  it  I  shall  "  speak  the  truth  in  love." 
P.S.  —  I  have  opened  this  letter,  to  tell  you  how  in- 
terested I  have  been  in  considering  your  remark,  that 
all  that  a  Christian  minister  has  to  do  is  to  preach 
what  Christ  preached,  and  live  what  Christ  lived. 
For  an  hour  past,  I  have  not  been  able  to  think  of 
anything  else.  I  am  satisfied  that  I  can  never  become 
truly  eloquent  until  I  become  as  ardently  attached  to 
Jesus  as  Paul  was.  No  !  I  don't  mean  that :  I  mean 
that  my  power  to  move  men  will  be  just  in  proportion 
to  the  depth  of  my  love  of  jesus,  and  my  ability  to 
manifest  it.  I  feel  that  I  ought  to  be  as  passionately 
fond  of  his  teachings  as  some  of  my  music-loving 
friends  are  of  Jenny  Lind's  voice. 

July  29,  1S51. 

I  cannot  help  being  filled  with  "  righteous  indigna- 
tion" by  the  contemptible  fliing  at  you  contained  in 
this  morning's  Advertiser.  The  Advertiser  is  the 
leading  Whig  paper  of  this  State.  Of  course  you 
will  laugh  at  it,  and  at  me,  perhaps,  for  sending  it 
to  you  ;  but  I  wish  to  give  you  a  faint  idea  of  the 
meanness  of  the  press  hereabouts.  I  have  never 
known  such  rotten  concerns.  The  way  in  which 
they  "come  down"  upon  those  "false  teachers"  who 


Life  and  Letters.  35 

preach  that  "religion  is  higher  than  the  State  and 
the  Constitution"  is   a  caution  to  young  ministers. 

Thus  far,  I  have  avoided  all  allusions  to  the  excit- 
ing topics  of  the  day.  My  last  text  was,  "  Let  us  do 
good,  as  we  ha\'e  opportunity,  unto  all  men."  Among 
the  ways  of  doing  good  in  the  State,  I  mentioned, 
"By  helping  to  discountenance  the  demagogue  and 
the  political  gambler ;  by  aiding  the  election  of  good 
men  of  broad  views  and  pure  lives,  who,  instead  of 
being  mere  partisans,  will  ever  cast  their  vote  and 
their  influence  into  the  scale  of  Justice,  Truth,  Peace, 
and  r'reedom.  We  may  do  good  by  elevating  the 
standard  of  public  morality,  by  seeing  that  religion 
is  carried  into  politics,  where  it  is  so  much  needed, 
and  kept  there."  While  touching  on  "doing  good 
in  the  Church,"  I  said,  "  By  endeavoring  to  have  a 
Christian  church  an  assembly  of  immortal  souls, 
anxious  to  hear  needed  truth  freely  uttered, —  not  a 
society  of  pew-owners,  gathered  to  have  their  ears 
pleased  and  their  nerves  composed  by  a  '  chloroform 
gospel,'  preached  with  elegance  and  'decent  debility'; 
not  an  association  of  men  who  are  contented  with 
formally  professing,  on  a  Sunday,  to  love  their  neigh- 
bor as  themselves  ;  but  a  real  band  of  brothers,  who 
are  pious,  in  plain  clothes,  and  whose  week-days 
abound  in  deeds  of  self-sacrificing  kindness." 

I  suffer  much  for  the  lack  of  society,  but  I  wel- 
come every  trial  in  the  way  of  discipline. 

Mr.  H.'s  sister,  from  Cambridge,  has  just  arrived. 
She  is  redolent  of  anti-slavery,  and  the  ^iight  of  her 
is  refreshing. 


36  Thomas  J.  Mmnford. 

I  was  much  amused,  on  Sunday.  A  shabbily- 
dressed  man,  who  had  listened  eagerly  to  my  sermon, 
called  me  aside  as  I  was  going  "out  of  church," 
and  complimenting  the  discourse,  —  the  first  he  had 
ever  heard  from  a  Unitarian  pulpit,  etc.,  —  finally 
gave  me  an  "opportunity  to  do  good"  by  paying  for 
his  dinner  and  supper.  That  was  practice  follow- 
ing pretty  closely  upon  the  heels  of  preacJiing;  was 
it  not .? 

In  the  evening,  I  was  called  upon  to  conduct 
funeral  services  at  the  house  of  a  gentleman  with 
whom  I  was  unacquainted.  The  deceased  was  a 
lovely  boy,  eleven  months  old, —  an  only  child.  I 
spent  several  hours  in  careful  preparation,  and,  when 
the  time  arrived,  I  obeyed  Mr.  Hosmer's  injunction 
to  "let  the  heart  lead."  A  number  of  strangers 
were  present.  I  was  assured  that  my  exertions  had 
been  blessed. 

I  am  not  acquainted  with  all  the  people  yet.  I 
hope  I  shall  find  my  way  to  their  hearts.  I  do  not 
know  what  to  think  about  being  ordained  an  evan- 
gelist. If  I  determine  upon  that,  I  am  at  a  loss  to 
decide  whether  I  shall  visit  Syracuse  for  that  pur- 
pose, or  try  to  have  you  come  here.  If  you  cannot 
come  to  me,  I  shall  go  to  you ;  for  I  would  rather 
wait  a  year  than  to  have  you  absent. 

Aug.  22,  185I. 

For  several  weeks  past  my  health  has  improved. 
Since  I  wrote  last,  I  have  visited  Ann  Arbor.  I  was 
frequently  called  upon  to  explain  our  views,  and  have 


Life  and  Letters.  37 

been  urged  to  return  and  give  a  public  reply  to  the 
question,  "  What  is  Unitarianism  ? "  I  shall  speak 
there  next  Sunday  evening  in  the  court-house.  I  am 
promised  a  large  audience.     I  wish  I  had  some  tracts. 

I  think  they  will  invite  me  to  settle  here,  and  I 
now  feel  inclined  to  accept,  if  my  health  holds  out. 
If  you  are  aware  "  of  any  just  cause  or  impediment," 
I  wish  you  would  let  me  know  immediately.  I  have 
not  concealed  my  sympathy  with  the  reforms  of  the 
day,  nor  my  ideas  of  the  independence  of  the  pulpit. 
On  that  account  a  few  may  hesitate ;  but  I  am  told 
that,  so  far  as  has  been  ascertained,  there  is  an 
almost  universal  wish  that  I  should  stay. 

I  cannot  tell  you  all  the  kindness  of  the  H.'s  to 
me.  Mr.  H.  has  treated  me  like  a  brother,  beloved 
from  the  beginning.  I  spend  many  delightful  hours 
in  his  house.  It  is  my  Detroit  home.  I  am  slowly 
getting  acquainted  with  my  people.  I  find  that  the 
minister  is  the  bridge  across  many  a  social  gulf.  The 
people  do  not  know  each  other,  and  I  have  no  one  to 
introduce  me.     I  hunt  them  down  singly. 

On  the  first  of  August,  I  accompanied  my  colored 
brethren  to  Canada,  crossing  in  a  boat  with  about 
a  hundred  of  them.  "  My  heart  leaped  up  when  I 
beheld "  several  schools  of  the  finest  children  the 
sun  ever  shone  upon.  Everything  was  done  de- 
cently and  in  order,  with  no  more  parade  than  the 
whites  make  on  their  sham  Fourth  of  July.  I  wit- 
nessed the  laying  of  the  corner-stone  of  a  church. 
The  ministers  were  all  "  colored,"  and  to  me  the 
services   were   solemn   in    the    extreme.      They   de- 

448867 


3B  Thomas   J.  Miimford. 

posited  copies  of  the  Liberator,  etc.,  in  the  box.  I 
was  thrilled  when  I  heard,  "  We  consecrate  this  spot 
to  the  worship  of  God  our  Father  ;  we  consecrate 
it  to  the  defence  of  the  rights  and  liberties  of  all  men, 
our  brethren."  I  had  no  opportunity  to  tell  them 
publicly  of  my  sympathy,  but  my  heart  and  my  eyes 
were  overflowing. 

The  recent  kidnapping  and  murder  in  Buffalo ! 
Does  not  Christianity  sometimes  seem  almost  "a 
failure".''  I  thank  God  it  is  not.  My  faith  stands 
the  trial.  Patience  and  earnest  effort  will  yet  cause 
the  right  to  triumph.  When  I  see  you,  I  must  tell 
you  of  a  romantic  idea  of  a  new  "  company  of  Jesus," 
devoted  to  the  overthrow  of  slavery,  of  which  I 
often  dream 

Sept.  3,  1S51. 

About  ten  days  ago,  the  trustees  of  the  society  re- 
solved to  recommend  me  to  the  congregation.  The 
President  and  several  others  told  me  the  vote  was 
unanimous  and  hearty.  "  Nobody  thought  of  any- 
thing else."  Last  Sunday,  I  had  about  one  hundred 
and  ten  hearers, — the  largest  audience  thus  far.  The 
society  then  gave  me  a  call  by  a  vote  as  unanimous 
and  hearty  as  that  of  the  trustees.  They  offered  a 
salary  of  ^600.  Besides  that  sum,  their  expenses  are 
at  least  ^200  for  rent,  music,  etc.  The  society  has 
been  self-sustaining  from  the  start,  and  they  seem 
to  be  in  downright  earnest.  I  shall  accept,  and 
serve  them  to  the  utmost  extent  of  the  ability  God 
has  criven  me. 


Life  and  Letters.  39 

As  to  "  the  practical  reformatory  tendencies  of  my 
faith,"  my  conscience  tells  me  I  have  done  right. 
In  private  conversation  with  most  of  the  leading 
men,  and  repeatedly  from  the  pulpit,  I  have  "  defined 
my  position"  most  distinctly.  I  have  preached  my 
sermon  on  "Speaking  the  Truth  in  Love,"  which  you 
may  remember.  To  be  sure,  I  have  not  preached  a 
sermon  entirely  devoted  to  any  particular  topic  of 
reform,  but  my  tendencies  have  been  manifested 
abundantly.  Many  have  assured  me  that  no  one  can 
mistake  my  feelings  and  principles  ;  they  have  ap- 
peared in  almost  every  sermon  and  prayer.  It  may 
be  that  some  will  squirm  yet  when  I  preach  directly 
at  some  partisan  measure ;  but,  from  the  moment 
I  came  here,  I  insisted  that  they  should  know  my 
principles,  and  know  also  that  they  do  not  admit  of 
compromise.  I  told  them  frankly  that  their  society 
might  suffer  by  their  promulgation,  urged  them  to 
remember  that,  when  they  should  think  of  calling 
me,  etc.  Hereafter,  no  man  can  say  he  did  not  know 
that  he  was  "catching  a  Tartar." 


Waterloo,  Oct.  i,  1851. 
I  thank  you  for  your  suggestions  concerning  the 
place,  etc.,  of  the  ordination.  I,  too,  think  that 
Detroit  is  the  best  place,  even  if  we  have  to  wait 
until  next  spring.  I  am  becoming  very  fond  of  the 
pulpit.  Every  time  I  utter  a  noble  sentiment,  I  seem 
to  grow  spiritually ;  for  I  preach  to  myself  as  well  as 
to  the  audience. 


40  Thomas   J.  Aluinford. 

I  wished  you  to  give  me  the  charge,  because  I  sup- 
posed that  to  be  the  most  direct  personal  part  of  the 
services, —  because  I  felt  that  injunctions  from  your 
lips  would  sink  most  deeply  into  my  heart.  If  I 
have  mistaken  the  nature  of  the  services,  if  the 
sermon  can  be  made  as  personal,  I  have  no  choice. 

As  I  was  leaving  the  pulpit,  last  Sunday  evening,  a 
former  parishioner  of  yours  came  forward  and  told 
me  she  could  not  help  expressing  her  delight,  etc., 
and  said  it  was  in  part  owing  to  the  fact  that  I  re- 
minded her  of  her  old  pastor  every  moment.  Half- 
a-dozen  people  in  Buffalo  said,  "  How  constantly  you 
remind  i}s  of  Mr.  May!  "  Is  it  not  singular.''  I  have 
heard  you  only  twice. 

Detroit,  Oct.  17,  1851. 
My  dear  Friend  and  Father,  —  Your  kind,  mag- 
nanimous letters  came  together,  Saturday  evening. 
I  went  to  Mr.  H.  and  Mr.  W.,  and  said,  "  I  learn  that 
the  Eastern  papers  are  abusing  Mr.  May,  charging 
him  with  countenancing  and  assisting  the  rescue  at 
Syracuse.  I  have  just  received  a  confidential  letter 
to  that  effect.  What  shall  I  do .''  I  want  him  to 
come.  He  has  been  more  than  a  friend  to  me.  He 
has  ever  manifested  almost  more  than  a  father's 
interest  in  me,  and  I  cannot  reconcile  myself  to  the 
thought  of  his  absence.  If  he  has  become  tempora- 
rily odious,  never  mind.  I  can  cheerfully  share  his 
fate.  If  his  coming  would  injure  the  prospects  of 
our  society, —  oh  !  I  will  labor  diligently  to  atone  for 
it  all.     If  the  damages  can  be  liquidated,  take  them 


Life  and  Letters.  41 

out  of  the  salary.  I  cannot  give  him  up.  Just  think 
of  Timothy's  writing  to  Paul,  telling  him  it  was  in- 
expedient for  him  to  attend  his  ordination,  as  the 
chief  priests  and  rulers  in  those  parts  called  him  a 
pestilent  fellow  and  a  mover  of  sedition!" 

They  seemed  both  amused  and  touched  by  my 
emotion,  and  said,  "  Tell  him  to  come,  by  all  means  ; 
we  don't  believe  he  can  do  us  any  harm  ;  and  what  if 
he  does .-'" 

When  the  telegraph  ofifice-doors  were  opened,  Mon- 
day morning,  I  entered  with  a  message,  urging  you 
to  come.  I  was  assured  that  it  would  be  sent  imme- 
diately. I  received  no  reply, —  not  even  a  letter.  I 
have  not  heard  from  you  since.  I  do  hope  nothing 
serious  has  occurred.  When  the  "Mayflower"  ar- 
rived, late  Wednesday  evening,  I  felt  sure  you  w^ere 
on  board.  I  saw  a  man  with  a  white  hat.  It  was 
dark,  and  I  rushed  into  his  arms ;  but  it  was  not 
you  !  Imagine  my  disappointment  when  I  learned 
you  were  not  on  board  !  But  I  soon  concluded  that 
you  had  endeavored  to  act  for  the  best. 

The  ordination  was  postponed  to  Thursday  even- 
ing. Mr.  Hosmer  preached  to  the  congregation 
which  had  collected.  Last  evening,  the  services 
were  all  eloquent,  excellent.  J.  F.  Clarke's  sermon 
was  glorious, —  true  to  God,  true  to  humanity,  as  he 
always  is.     May  God  bless  his  dear  soul ! 

Everything  was  excellent.  But  when,  after  the 
charge,  I  sat  down  and  thought  that  you  might  be  in 
prison,  my  emotions  struggled  hard  for  an  expression 
which  would  have  unfitted  me  for  the  remaininii  ser- 


42  Thomas   J.  Mumford. 

vices  ;  but  God  gave  me  strength  to  retain  my  self- 
possession. 

I  was  touched  by  your  son's  unexpected  kindness. 
I  shall  prize  that  mark  of  his  affection  most  highly. 
God  knows  I  love  you  all  dearly.  I  have  a  thousand 
thoughts  I  cannot  utter  now. 

Your  friend  and  son, 

T.  J.  M. 

Nov.  6,  1S51. 

My  very  dear  Friend  and  Father, —  Your  favor  of 
the  2d  inst.  has  just  reached  me.  I  was  delighted 
to  get  it.  I  read  it  in  the  street,  and  became  so 
absorbed  as  to  narrowly  escape  capsizing  several 
fellow-citizens,  who  did  not  observe  that  I  was  en- 
gaged. I  knew  how  you  must  have  felt  concerning 
the  ordination ;  still,  I  could  not  help  being  sorely 
disappointed.  You  can  scarcely  imagine  how  my 
heart  yearned  for  the  charge ;  and  you  would  be  as- 
tonished, could  you  realize  how  many  ardent  friends 
you  have  among  my  little  flock.  I  am  proud  of  my 
people  because  they  were  so  willing  to  have  you 
come,  in  spite  of  the  popular  prejudice.  With  almost 
maternal  partiality,  I  almost  believe  there  never  were 
such  parishioners. 

I  cannot  think  that  the  administration  are  so  blind 
and  mad  as  to  hasten  their  destruction  by  arresting 
you.  I  confess,  I  wish  they  would.  I  don't  want 
to  hear  that  you  are  hanged,  and  I  don't  expect  to  ; 
but  I  think  exceptions  may  be  taken  to  the  old 
maxim,  "  You  can  put  a  man  to  no  worse  use  than 


Life  ami  Letters.  45 

to  hang  him."  It  depends  upon  what  you  hang  him 
for.  I  have  great  faith  in  the  utility  of  martyrs. 
Is  not  their  blood  the  seed  of  the  Church  .''  If  I 
know  my  own  heart,  I  would  most  joyfully  meet 
imprisonment,  and  death  itself,  rather  than  obey 
the  Fugitive  Slave  Law,  or  even  refrain  from  pro- 
nouncing it  damnable. 

I  shall  suffer,  if  you  suffer ;  indeed,  it  would  be 
wrong  for  me,  young,  without  a  family,  son  of  a 
slave-holder,  too,  to  stand  by,  preaching  the  gospel 
generally,  while  one  in  your  relations  is  losing  all  the 
things  of  time  for  the  sake  of  the  slave. 

I  thank  you  for  your  suggestion  respecting  con- 
nected serm.ons.  My  plan  is  to  have  one  discourse 
of  eacli  Sunday  a  "regular," — the  other  of  the 
"  Guerilla  "  stamp.  I  never  write  a  sermon  without 
wishing  I  could  read  it  to  you.  I  have  just  finished 
one  on  the  True  Church.  I  speak  first  of  the  Church 
of  God,  of  which  the  Church  of  Christ  is  a  branch. 
In  it  I  find  the  good  Samaritan,  Pontiac  the  great 
Indian,  and  other  worthies. 

"This  Church  of  God  is  the  only  universal  one. 
To  the  human  eye  it  seems  unorganized.  It  exists 
everywhere.  Its  origin  may  be  dated  back  before 
the  time  of  righteous  Abel.  Its  end  will  never  come ; 
for,  like  all  things  truly  good  and  great,  it  is  eternal. 
Who  are  members  of  this  Church  }  All  who,  in  any 
age,  in  any  country,  under  any  form  of  faith,  have 
loved  truth  and  reverenced  right,  doing  good  and 
living  beautiful  and  holy  lives,  whether  they  called 
the  Deity  '  Jehovah,  Jove,  or  Lord ' ;    whether  they 


44  TJiovias   J.  ATuniford. 

worshipped    under    roofs  of   man's   erection,  in    the 
great  church  of  Nature,  that  — 

" '  Cathedral,  boundless  as  our  wonder, 
Whose  quenchless  lamps  the  sun  and  moon  supply; 
Its  choir,  the  winds  and  waves  ;  its  organ,  thunder ; 
Its  dome  the  sky,' 

or  in  that  best  of  oratories,  on  the  most  sacred  of 
altars,  the  inmost  recesses  of  a  pure  heart." 


Nov.  i8,  1S51. 

Last  Sunday  forenoon,  my  text  was,  Our  Father  ; 
in  the  afternoon.  Our  Father,  —  my  best  sermons 
thus  far,  I  think.  At  all  events,  they  elicited  much 
feeling  and  many  hearty  thanks  from  my  best 
hearers.  In  the  evening,  I  was  a  little  frightened. 
They  seemed  about  to  applaud  audibly.  Let  me 
copy  a  passage  or  two,  to  show  you  on  what  food  I  try 
to  keep  alive  the  spirits  of  my  people.  I  will  select 
passages  good  in  sentiment  rather  than  rhetoric. 

"  Christianity  does  not  consist  in  a  proud  priest- 
hood, a  costly  church,  an  irnposing  ritual,  a  fashion- 
able throng,  a  pealing  organ,  loud  responses  to  the 
creed,  and  reiterated  expressions  of  reverence  for  the 
name  of  Christ,  but  in  the  spirit  that  was  in  Jesus, 
the  spirit  of  filial  trust  in  God,  and  ardent,  impartial, 
overflowing  love  to  man.  If  there  is  in  the  whole 
universe  of  God  a  human  being  whose  wrongs  wc  re- 
gard with  indifference,  whose  failings  or  deformities 
or  degradation  wc  view  with  cruel  scorn,  whom  in 
any  way  we  neglect  and  despise,  wc  are  not  truly 


Life  ami  Letters.  45 

Christians  ;  nor  are  wc  even  pious.  I  care  not  how 
frequent  may  be  our  devotions,  nor  how  sound  our 
faith,  nor  how  profuse  our  offerings  to  God ;  though 
we  spend  our  days  in  prayer,  and  our  nightly  visions 
are  of  heaven ;  though  our  belief  is  free  from  the 
slightest  taint  of  heresy ;  though  every  church  in 
the  land  is  vocal  with  praises  of  our  generosity,  and 
every  religious  paper  filled  with  tributes  to  our 
piety, —  if  we  can  look  with  criminal  coldness  upon 
the  wrongs  of  even  the  least  of  Christ's  brethren,  we 
are  not  lovers  of  God.  .  .  . 

'•  There  is  another  way  of  slighting  humanity,  of 
which  I  wish  to  speak,  —  in  the  common,  almost 
universal  belief  that  some  professions  are  of  superior 
dignity;  that  the  seat  of  honor  or  reverence  lies,  not 
in  the  man,  but  in  his  calling.  This  error  cannot  be 
rebuked  too  frequently  or  too  pointedly.  It  is  the 
parent  of  much  of  human  pride  and  jealousy.  Alany 
of  our  titles  are  absurd,  and  it  requires  some  patience 
not  to  be  restive  under  them.  There  are  scores  of 
memljcrs  of  Parliament,  Congress,  and  Assembly  to 
whom  as  little  honor  is  due  as  to  any  being  born  of 
woman.  There  are  many  clergymen  who  should  be 
treated  with  irreverence,  if  their  abused  humanity 
did  not  exempt  them  from  the  indignity ;  and,  on  the 
other  hand,  are  there  not  obscure  men  and  women 
who  deserve  our  profoundest  esteem  and  homage } 
Who  has  not  known  'Most  Honorable'  farmers, 
'Right  Reverend'  mechanics.''  Let  every  man  rise 
or  fall  with  his  own  individual  character.  A  man  is 
a  nobler  title  than  that  of  hero,  priest,  or  king.  .  .  . 


46  TJiomas   J.  Mnmford. 

"  It  seems  eminently  the  duty  of  an  American 
to  be  philanthropic, —  to  cherish  human  rights,  to 
denounce  earnestly  and  eloquently  human  wrongs- 
Our  country  professes  to  be  the  chosen  home,  the 
peculiar  abode,  of  humanity  and  equality.  To  our 
shores  hundreds  of  thousands  of  the  natives  of 
Europe  come  every  year.  At  this  moment,  from  the 
President  to  the  poorest  vagrant  in  our  streets,  we 
are  all  anxiously  awaiting  the  arrival  of  the  greatest 
of  modern  martial  heroes,  with  whose  noble  defence 
of  the  liberties  of  his  country  'all  Europe  rings 
from  side  to  side.'  But  are  we  truly  consistent.'*  Is 
not  our  reverence  for  humanity  partial.?  Does  it 
not  depend  upon  accidents  rather  than  essentials .-' 
Do  we  not  ourselves  tolerate  wrongs  which  shame 
the  friends  of  freedom  throughout  the  world.-*" 

Jan.  26,  1852. 

It  is  just  three  years,  this  week,  perhaps  this  day, 
since  I  got  into  the  cars  at  Waterloo  and  rode  with 
you  to  Auburn ;  and  now  here  I  am,  busy  and  happy, 
with  a  rapidly  increasing  society,  and  rich  in  my 
first  fifty  sermons !  My  society  comes  on  nicely,  the 
morning  audiences  having  increased  from  seventy 
to  a  hundred,  and  the  evening  from  thirty-five  to 
seventy-five.  My  people  are  not  rich,  but  honest 
and  generous.  My  salary  is  paid  promptly ;  and  the 
treasurer  assures  me  that  the  people  pay  it  most 
cheerfully,  with  many  kind  words  by  way  of  accom- 
paniment. I  have  continued  to  utter  my  sentiments 
on  every  subject  in  a  frank,  manly  way,  and  have 


Life  and  Letters.  47 

given  no  offence  even  when  I  anticipated  it.  All  my 
relations  arc  delightful,  and  I  am  very  happy.  The 
only  drawback  to  my  bliss  is  the  fear  that  I  have 
entered  the  field  prematurely,  without  taking  time 
enough  for  preparatory  studies.  I  hope  to  exchange 
with  Shippen,  in  March.  One  exchange  in  five 
months  is  not  too  much  for  one  who  has  hardly 
covered  the  bottom  of  his  barrel  with  sermons. 

I  am  much  delighted  with  Kossuth.  His  reply  to 
Chancellor  Walworth  was  prompt  and  noble. 

I  expect  to  attend  the  Boston  Anniversaries.  You 
know  I  have  not  seen  half-a-dozen  of  my  New  Eng- 
land brethren.  I  wish  to  hear  Parker,  King,  Gannett, 
Huntington,  and  Pierpont.  I  want  to  see  Federal 
Street  Church  and  Faneuil  Hall.  I  wish  also  to  go 
on  a  pilgrimage  to  iVmesbury.  Mr.  Whitticr's  poems 
wrought  my  "change  of  heart"  on  the  subject  of 
slavery. 

I  wish  I  could  see  you  once  a  week.  It  is  very 
hard  to  be  so  isolated  in  the  first  year  of  one's  minis- 
try. I  am  often  lonely.  But  I  am  well  aware  of  the 
numerous  and  pressing  demands  which  are  made 
upon  your  time,  and  therefore  your  silence  never 
pains  me.  Whenever  you  are  able  to  write,  I  am 
the  most  grateful  of  Timothys. 

Your  grateful  and  affectionate  son, 

T.  J.  MUMFORD. 
June  17,  1852. 

We  have  not  commenced  our  church,  but  it  will  go 
up  very  soon.     Our  lot  is  a  fine  one,  high,  central,  yet 


48  TJiovias   J.  ]\himford. 

retired.  We  hope  to  pay  for  the  church  ourselves. 
Our  society  has  never  received  a  cent  from  abroad, 
and  I  think  we  shall  not  solicit  anything  here- 
after. 

From  what  I  saw  of  New  England  ministers,  at 
Cincinnati,  I  must  say  that  my  desire  to  visit 
Boston  has  greatly  abated,  and  I  do  not  know  what 
would  tempt  me  to  go  there  asking  funds  for  our 
church. 

Dr. spent  a  night  here,  last  week,  leaving  on 

Saturday  morning  for  the  East.     I  did  not  see  him. 

Mr.  asked  him  to  stay  and  preach  for  us,  but 

he  did  not  seem  at  all  inclined  to  do  so.  He  went 
to  Buffalo,  where  there  is  a  strong  society  needing 
no  help,  a  regular  church,  an  organ,  a  gown,  and  all 
the  other  essentials  of  the  Christian  ministry. 

In  Cincinnati,  Dr.   and  ]\Ir.  made  me 

very  indignant  by  their  anecdotes,  calculated,  and 
apparently  designed,  to  ridicule  Dr.  Channing's  tone 
and  manner  and  his  complaints  of  ill-health. 

Our  politicians  are  looking  anxiously  towards  Bal- 
timore for  the  Whig  nominations.  I  hope  Fillmore 
will  be  the  man ;  not  because  I  admire  him, —  heaven 
deliver  me  from  that!  —  but  because,  supported  as  he 
is  by  the  whole  South,  his  nomination  will  hasten 
that  glorious  day  when  present  political  organiza- 
tions shall  be  blown  to  atoms,  and  the  great  party  of 
freedom  shall  rally  and  triumph  ! 

Is  it  true  that  Wm.  Henry  Channing  is  coming  to 
Rochester.''  I  hope  it  is,  for  I  long  to  meet  him. 
He  is  one  of  my  idols. 


Life  and  Letters.  49 

May  3[,  1S52. 

From  Cincinnati,  I  went  to  Mcadville.  I  found 
that  I  could  not  afford  to  attend  the  Boston  anniver- 
saries. I  am  sorry  you  could  not  attend  the  Western 
Convention.  You  were  missed,  I  can  assure  you. 
The  anti-slavery  folks  could  hardly  be  reconciled  to 
your  absence.  James  Freeman  Clarke  is  coming 
to  inquire  about  the  condition  of  the  fugitives  here. 
I  hope  you  will  meet  him.  He  is  very  much  inter- 
ested in  their  cause. 

I  am  glad  the  prospects  of  your  church  are  so 
good.  Our  friends  here  think  of  building,  this 
summer.     They  have  purchased  a  fine  lot. 

June  17, 1852. 
I  wish  I  could  be  here  to  go  into  Canada  with  you. 
It  does  not  cost  much  to  visit  the  land  of  the  fugi- 
tives. If  you  wish  to  visit  Amherstburgh,  or  Maiden, 
as  it  is  called,  the  place  where  "  George  "  and  "  Eliza  " 
landed,  the  "Arrow,"  probably  the  very  boat  which 
transported  Mrs.  Stowe's  heroine,  will  take  you  there, 
in  about  an  hour,  for  a  few  shillings.  I  am  told  that 
the  officers  of  this  fine  little  boat  never  fail  to  land 
on  the  Canada  shore,  business  or  no  business,  if 
there   are  promising-looking  colored  men  on  board. 

July  5,  1S52. 

It  is  noon,  and  they  are  firing  cannon  almost  under 
my  window.  This  fact  must  excuse  some  of  my 
hieroglyphics. 

Yesterday  was  the  "Glorious  Fourth  !  "  My  texts 
were,  "  If   I  forget  thee,  O   Jerusalem ! "  etc.,  and. 


50  TJwinas  J.  Mumford. 

"  Righteousness  exalteth  a  nation."  I  do  love  my 
country  most  fondly,  and  I  have  never  been  con- 
vinced that  the  Union  is  not  a  great  blessing.  I  was 
pretty  patriotic  in  the  first  half  of  the  discourse,  and 
when  I  came  to  slavery,  I  spoke  ten  minutes  as  dis- 
tinctly and  emphatically  as  possible,  yet  with  kind- 
ness. I  had  a  full  house,  one-third  strangers.  After 
service,  the  trustees  had  a  meeting.  We  have  only 
$7,000.  Our  lot  cost  $3,000.  If  we  had  only  to  pro- 
vide for  ourselves,  we  could  get  along  nicely ;  but  it 
will  never  do  to  build  a  small  or  shabby  house  in 
this  beautiful,  growing  city.  We  have  a  fine  plan 
for  a  house,  but  it  will  cost  $8,000  or  $9,000.  The 
trustees  feel  determined  to  build,  and  to  build  accord- 
ing to  the  plan.  No  one  ever  dreams  of  foreign  aid. 
I  cannot  help  thanking  God  for  that.  I  have  no 
doubt  the  money  will  be  raised  and  the  building 
begun  by  the  time  you  come.  I  do  not  believe  that 
any  man  ever  spoke  to  a  more  kind,  considerate, 
generous  assembly  than  the  one  that  gathers  in 
the  Hall.  Oh,  how  I  love  them !  I  am  interested 
in  their  business,  their  families,  their  souls,  their 
everything. 

But  I  must  go  away  from  this  tremendous  firing. 
Give  unto  all  thine  household  the  warmest  love  of 
thy  son,  Timothy. 

P.S.  —  My  most  intimate  friend,  U.  Tracy  Howe, 
<vill  deliver  the  address  before  the  literary  societies 
of  our  State  University,  on  the  20th  inst.  I  am  very, 
very  sorry  to  l^c  absent.     You  must    go  with    liim. 


Life  and  Letters.  5 1 

Ann  Arbor  is  a  beautiful  village.  I  spoke  there,  last 
evening ;  court-house  full.  I  never  had  a  more 
attentive  audience,  and  the  stock  of  tracts  did  not 
begin  to  supply  the  demand.  I  am  very  anxious  that 
you  should  know  Mr.  Howe.  He  is  one  of  Nature's 
noblemen,  and  my  love  for  him  almost  passes  that  of 
woman.     Again,  farewell. 

The  "  Mayflower,"  Sept.  26,  1852. 

I  am  now  on  my  way  to  Meadville,  to  make  my 
last  visit  for  the  year  1852.  I  expect  to  have  a  very 
pleasant  time  ;  indeed,  I  am  going  "  on  purpose."  I 
shall  return,  in  about  ten  days. 

Sunday  before  last,  Mr.  Howe  read  aloud  Parker's 
grand  sermon  at  the  Simms  anniversary.  He  did 
it  justice,  and  I  was  frequently  reminded  of  your 
remark  of  Parker,  "  In  morals  he  is  tremendous. " 
That's  the  word. 

I  have  been  much  gratified  and  entertained  by  the 
impression  which  you  made  upon  different  members 
of  my  flock.  All  who  heard  you  seem  to  have  been 
highly  pleased.  Some  were  surprised  to  see  so  quiet 
a  fanatic,  so  cool  an  incendiary.  Mrs.  S.  has  become 
an  admirer  of  yours.  I  do  not  suppose  she  ever 
encountered  a  genuine  ultra-reformer  before,  and 
you  have  relieved  her  mind  of  some  painful  dread  of 
the  class.  .  .  . 

Until  about  a  month  ago,  I  felt  a  little  impatient 
because  our  church  did  not  begin  to  go  up ;  but 
now  I  am  perfectly  satisfied.  It  is  ascending  briskly, 
and  will  be  enclosed  in  very  good  season.     As  the 


52  Thomas   J.  Mamford. 

winter  approaches,  the  attendance  begins  to  increase. 
Within  a  short  time,  I  have  learned  several  facts 
about  members  of  my  flock  which  have  encouraged 
me  greatly. 

Last  evening,  I  completed  my  engagement  at  Ann 
Arbor.  I  have  spoken  there  eight  times  to  audi- 
ences ranging  from  thirty  to  three  hundred.  I  must 
confess,  however,  that  the  smallest  congregations 
have  been  the  last  two ;  but  I  attribute  this  in  part 
to  a  satisfied  curiosity,  the  efforts  of  the  Orthodox, 
and  rival  meetings  at  the  same  hour,  and  in  part 
to  the  nights  being  dark  and  stormy,  and  the  cars 
keeping  me  an  hour  behind  my  usual  time. 

Oct.  II,  1S52. 
When  will  your  church  be  dedicated  }     I  hope  to 
see  ours  enclosed  in  a  few  weeks.     They  commence 
the  brick-work  to-day. 

Nov.  6,  1852. 
Our  church  will  be  ready  for  the  roof  next  week. 
Mrs.  S.  was  here  last  Sunday,  and  heard  me  speak  of 
Daniel  Webster.  I  spoke  kindly,  yet  most  distinctly, 
of  his  private  and  public  iniquities.  Poor  man,  how 
I  pitied  him  !     Retribution  is  seldom  so  prompt ! 

P.S.  —  Monday  morning.  I  have  just  time  to  add 
that  we  had  a  \-ery  high  wind  before  daylight,  yes- 
terday morning,  which  blew  down  the  west  wall  of 
our  church,  breaking  the  beams  for  the  floors,  etc., 
etc.     It  is  quite  a  blow  to  us.    The  church  was  just 


Life  ami  Letters.  53 

ready  for  the  roof,  and  the  season  is  ahnost   gone. 
Wc  are  not  cast  down. 

Boston,  Dec.  17,  1S52. 

This  is  my  fifth  week  in  Boston.  They  have  been 
weeks  of  mingled  enjoyment  and  suffering.  The 
latter,  however,  has  greatly  predominated.  Begging 
is  not  my  forte,  and  never  was  a  poor  fellow  in  a 
state  of  greater  agony.  I  cannot  tell  you  of  the 
coldness  and  rebuffs  which  I  have  received,  nor  of 
the  kindness  which  some  have  manifested.  Perhaps 
after  it  is  all  over  I  shall  feel  better  and  more  grateful. 

I  have  now  secured  $600  in  Boston,  and  $100  in 
Concord.  I  hope  to  increase  the  sum  obtained  here 
to  $1,000.  Then  I  shall  go  to  New  Bedford,  Salem, 
Providence,  Worcester,  and  New  York,  hoijing  to 
pick  up  a  few  hundreds  on  my  way  home. 

I  look  forward  to  several  years  of  self-denial,  hard 
work,  and  single-wretchedness  with  a  struggling 
society.  It  will  take  a  thousand  dollars  to  put  us 
where  we  were  before  the  calamity  overtook  us. 
But  I  am  a  little  too  much  prone  to  overrate  the 
difficulties  in  my  way.  If  I  am  disappointed,  I  gen- 
erally manage  to  be  pleasantly  disappointed.  Our 
church  has  gone  up  again,  and  I  suppose  the  roof  is 
on  again  by  this  time. 

DETRorr,  July  29,  1S53. 
Since  my  return,  I  have   been  overwhelmed  with 
duties  and  calls  of  business  and  congratulation.* 

*  Married  in  Meadville,  Pa.,  June  23,  1S53,  Thomas  James  Mumford  and  Sarah 
Yates  Shippen. 


54  Thomas  J.  Mumford. 

Our  church  will  be  dedicated  on  Thursday,  the  8th 
of  September,  and  we  shall  be  very  happy  to  see 
you  at  the  services.  Mr.  Stebbins  is  to  preach  the 
sermon,  and  we  hope  for  quite  a  goodly  attendance 
of  the  brethren  from  abroad.  Everything  continues 
to  go  on  smoothly.  Our  church  is  much  admired, 
and  I  hear  many  flattering  predictions  of  a  large  con- 
gregation in  a  few  years. 

The  sentiment  of  filial  affection  and  gratitude,  as 
I  am  assured,  is  shared  by  Sarah,  the  wife  of  your 
son,  Timothy. 

May  31,  1854. 

Monday  was  a  day  of  terrible  suspense  to  us.  .  .  . 
Yesterday  afternoon,  I  buried  the  little  boy,  whom 
we  had  named  for  our  Chicago  brother,  in  our  beau- 
tiful cemetery  at  Elmwood.  At  the  grave,  I  recited 
these  lines :  — 

"  To  the  Father's  love  we  trust 
That  which  was  enshrined  in  dust ; 
While  we  give  the  earth  to  earth. 
Finds  the  soul  its  heavenly  birth ; 
Angels  wait  the  angel-child, 
Gentle,  young,  and  undefiled. 

"  Give  the  spirit,  then,  to  God, 
And  its  vesture  to  the  sod; 
Life,  henceforth,  shall  have  a  ray 
Kindled  ne'er  to  pass  away, 
And  a  light  from  angel  eyes 
Draws  us  upward  to  the  skies." 

My  grief  at  the  loss  of  the  cliild  was  almost  swal- 
lowed up  in  joy  for  its  mother's  safety.  .  .  . 


Life  at  id  Letters.  55 

Wc  had  a  fine  time  at  Louisville.  Judge  Pirtle's 
report  came  up,  and  I  made  a  pretty  earnest  spcecli, 
I  said  that  the  reason  giv^en  for  defining  our  position 
with  respect  to  the  miracles,  vi::.:  "Whereas  there 
is  a  misunderstanding  of  the  views  of  Unitarians," 
etc.,  etc.,  proved  altogether  too  much  ;  for  our  views 
are  misunderstood  on  every  subject.  After  threat- 
ening to  move  that  the  report  be  referred  back  to 
the  committee,  with  instructions  to  amend  by  de- 
fining our  position  on  all  the  subjects  in  systematic 
theology  and  practical  Christianity,  with  particular 
attention  to  inspiration  and  retribution  and  war  and 
intemperance  and  slavery,  I  said  something  like  this  : 

"  While  I  am  willing  to  admit  that  my  religious 
sensibilities  have  been  deeply  wounded  by  some  of 
the  words  of  Mr.  Parker,  I  am  unwilling  to  have  it 
appear  that  we  consider  his  the  most  dangerous 
infidelity.  The  worst  scepticism  in  America  has  not 
been  heard  in  the  Music  Hall,  at  Boston,  but  in  these 
Christian  churches,  many  of  them  unquestionably 
orthodox,  whose  ministers  have  preached  that  an 
infamous  human  law,  which  commands  us  to  increase 
heavy  burdens,  and  not  to  let  the  oppressed  go 
free, —  a  law  commanding  injustice  and  hating  mercy, 
—  is  binding  upon  our  consciences.  Mr.  Parker  may 
reject  Christ.     These  men  certainly  dethrone  God." 

Judge  Pirtle's  report  is  to  be  printed,  accom- 
panied by  a  disclaimer  of  all  indorserpcnts  by  the 
Conference. 

I  found  mmy  Kentucky  women  who  responded 
warmly  to  my  anti-slavery  talk.     Some  of  them  over- 


56  Thomas   J.  Miunford. 

whelmed  me  with  sympathy.  I  am  arxxious  to  hear 
the  end  of  the  Boston  slave  case.  Syracuse  seems 
to  keep  the  old  fires  burning. 

Dec.  22,  1854. 

The  infant  church  at  Detroit  is  now  able  to  walk 
alone  nicely.  We  have  about  sixty  members  of  the 
church  proper.  Nearly  eighty  of  our  pews  are  occu- 
pied, yielding  an  income  of  about  $1,600.  The  min- 
ister's salary  is  now  a  thousand  dollars,  and,  during 
the  year  that  is  closing,  he  has  received  presents 
amounting  to  half  as  much  more.  Our  Thanks- 
giving collection  for  the  poor  was  much  larger  than 
that  of  any  of  the  wea.lthy  societies  of  the  city. 
Believing  in  the  concentration  of  effort,  I  am  aiming 
at  the  establishment  of  a  ministry-at-large,  to  b^ 
started  next  year,  if  possible.  To  this  work,  I  shall 
give  my  best  energies  for  some  time. 

Each  year  greater  importance  is  conceded  to  our 
society,  and  I  am  treated  with  increasing  courtesy. 
I  do  not,  however,  purchase  peace  by  concealment  of 
differences.  While  I  aim  to  be  truly  evangelical,  I 
give  no  quarter  to  Calvinism,  in  any  of  its  more  or 
less  horrible  forms.  We  are  trimming  our  church 
for  Christmas,  and  hope  to  have  a  good  celebration. 

Oct.  19,  1855. 
Your  favor  of  the  17th  inst.  has  just  been  received, 
and  I  thank  you  with  a  full  heart  for  its  words  of 
sympathy  and  cheer.  I  wish  we  could  sit  side  by 
side  for  a  few  hours ;  for,  in  this  season  of  loneliness, 
I  often  turn  with  new  interest  to  the  friends  whom  I 


Life  and  Letters.  57 

have  long  known  and  loved.  You  will  be  glad  to 
know  that  I  am  generally  calm  and  cheerful.  Of 
course  there  are  days  when  I  am  very  sad ;  but  the 
last  hours  of  my  wife  were  beautiful  beyond  descrip- 
tion, and  by  new  devotion  to  the  work  given  me  to  do 
I  hope  to  shorten  the  time  of  separation  and  heighten 
the  bliss  of  reunion.  The  day  is  dark  and  cloudy, 
but,  in  the  universe  of  a  good  Father,  "  At  the 
evening-time  it  shall  be  light."* 

April  7,  1S56. 

I  am  c^uitc  well,  and  busy  according  to  my  spirits 
and  strength.  My  pulpit  has  never  been  cared  for 
so  faithfully  as  during  the  last  si.x  months.  In 
December,  January,  and  February  my  church  was 
literally  full ;  but  with  the  approach  of  warm  weather 
the  congregation  diminishes  somewhat.  Yesterday 
morning  my  sermon  was  on  "The  Attractions  of  the 
Ministry."  I  feel  that  no  preacher  discharges  the 
debt  due  to  his  profession  until  he  has  confirmed  the 
choice  of  some  youth  whose  voice  shall  be  lifted  up 
for  practical  righteousness,  when  that  of  his  elder 
brother  in  the  ministry  shall  be  hushed  in  death.  By 
the  way,  I  suspect  that  my  love  for  you  has  always 
had  a  great  deal  to  do  with  my  love  for  the  ministe- 
rial calling.  Very  few  men  could  have  impressed  me 
so  favorably  on  a  first  acquaintance.  I  shall  never 
forget  how  ardently  I  have  longed  for  the  time  when 
I  should  be  a  co-worker  with  Jesus  and  with  you  in 
the  redemption  of  mankind  from  ignorance,  sin,  and 
misery. 

•Died  in  Meadville,  P.i.,  Sept.  24,  1S55,  Sarah,  wife  of  Thomas  J.  Mumford. 


58  Thomas  J.  Mumford. 

June  5,  1856. 

I  was  delighted  to  learn  that  your  illness  had  been 
exaggerated.  May  you  still  have  many  years  of 
strength  and  hope,  to  befriend  the  noble  causes  to 
which  you  are  devoted,  and  to  cheer  the  legion  of 
friends  who  love  you  ! 

Of  course  I  have  been  very  much  excited  by  the 
outrage  at  Washington  and  in  Kansas.  The  assault 
upon  Sumner  came  right  home  to  my  own  heart ;  for 
if  I  have  any  idol  among  our  public  men  it  is  Charles 
Sumner.  For  the  last  nine  years  I  have  read  every- 
thing that  he  has  published  with  exceeding  satisfac- 
tion and  delight.  My  sermon  on  "  The  Reign  of 
Ruffianism  in  the  United  States,"  was  well  received. 
There  are  a  few  Hunkers  in  my  congregation,  but 
I  rejoice  to  know  that  a  large  majority  wish  to  hear 
the  great  gospel  of  human  freedom  distinctly  and 
earnestly  preached. 

I  hope  you  will  get  to  Chicago.  You  have  hardly 
had  an  opportunity  to  learn  the  spirit  of  our  Western 
brethren.  We  have  our  alloy  of  conservatism,  but 
Conant,  Shippen,  Murray,  Staples,  Moulton,  Kelsey, 
and  several  others,  are  of  the  advance  party  in  the- 
ology and  reforms.  Huntingtonism  would  be  the 
death  of  Liberal  Christianity  in  the  West,  and  I  am 
glad  to  see  that  even  in  New  England  the  reaction 
has  apparently  commenced. 

Nov.  4,  1856. 

At  last  the  great  day  has  come,  and  I  am  hoping 
and  praying  that  it  will  prove  to  be  "  the  day  of  the 
Lord." 


Life  and  Letters.  59 

While  at  the  polls,  I  overheard  a  good  remark.  A 
master  blacksmith,  six  feet  four  inches  in  height, 
famous  for  his  great  physical  strength"  and  his  big, 
kind  heart,  but  by  no  means  "hopefully  pious,"  was 
talking  to  a  Republican  who  belongs  to  a  Presbyte- 
rian church  whose  minister  denounces  Sumner  and 

Beecher.     I    heard  him  say,  "  Mr. ,  if   there  is 

anything   that  makes  me  sick  of   religion,  it's  that 

Border  Ruffian  pulpit  of  yourn  ! !  "     Of  course 

that's  profane  language  ;  but  it  does  not  grate  on  my 
ears  half  so  harshly  as  the  prayers  of  a  Rev.  Cream 
Cheese. 

Thanks  for  the  Liberators  containing  your  letter 
to  H.  C.  Wright.  I  liked  it  exceedingly,  just  as  I 
do  everything  that  you  say  and  do,  my  dear  father. 

I  "  shrieked  for  freedom  "  again,  last  Sunday.  One 
man  has  left  my  church,  and  a  few  more  are  troubled 
by  my  words ;  but  I  thank  God  that  the  most  of  my 
.people  like  to  hear  their  watchman  blow  the  trumpet 
of  Righteousness  and  Truth.  I  have  reason  to  know 
that  my  words  disturb  the  greatest  pro-slavery  mag- 
nates in  the  State,  and  I  rejoice  to  know  that  they 
are  disturbe;!  thereby.     Out  of  thirty  ministers,  there 

are  only  four  who  speak  for  liberty.     Dr.  is  de 

fending   the    Mosaic  account  of    the   Creation,  in  a 

course  of  lectures  ;  and  Mr.  is  interpreting  the 

book  of  Revelations  :  but,  between  this  Alpha  and 
this  Omega,  there  are  some  good  words  uttered  foi 
the  weightier  matters  of  the  law  by  Congregationalist, 
Baptist,  and  Covenanter. 


6o  TJiomas  J.  Uliiinford. 

For  the  sake  of  Kansas,  I  hope  Fremont  will  be 
elected;  but  I  am  not  sure  that  the  choice  of  Bu- 
chanan would  not  hasten  the  "good  time  coming" 
when,  in  peace  or  war,  by  vote  or  sword,  the  oli- 
garchy of  Satan  will  be  utterly  overthrown. 

Aug.  6,  1S57. 
The  time  fixed  for  the  meeting  of  our  Ministerial 
Association  is  the  week  before  the  autumnal  Con- 
vention. It  seems,  therefore,  that,  unless  you  care 
to  take  two  Western  excursions,  you  will  be  obliged 
to  choose  between  the  Jerry  rescue  and  the  meeting 
at  Jefferson.  Without  intending  the  least  disrespect 
for  the  memory  of  Jerry,  or  the  slightest  indiffer- 
ence to  the  merits  of  his  saviours,  I  think  you  will  be 
wise  to  prefer  the  gathering  in  the  Western  Reserve. 
It  is  a  noble  region,  because  it  is  inhabited  by  noble 
men.  Indeed,  if  there  is  any  "Holy  Land"  on  this 
hemisphere,  it  is  North-eastern  Ohio,  where  there  is 
no  occasion  for  rescuing  a  man  from  the  hands  of  his 
oppressors  ;  for  no  man-stealer  ever  dares  on  that  soil 
to  claim  God's  children  as  property.  You  cannot 
help  being  perfectly  delighted  with  the  love  of  uni- 
versal freedom  which  animates  the  souls  of  Giddings' 
constituents,  and  I  hope  you  will  not  lose  this  oppor- 
tunity to  speak  to  them. 

Feb.  13,  1S60. 

To-morrow  is  St.  Valentine's  day ;  but,  as  I  do  not 
feel  disposed  to  wait  any  longer,  I  shall  send  you  my 
love-letter  noio.  Perhaps  it  will  reach  Syracuse  at 
the  appropriate  time. 


Life  and  Letters.  6 1 

Your  concern  about  my  health  is  not  altogether 
unreasonable,  and  still  I  feel  bound  to  continue  to  do 
pretty  much  as  I  have  done  since  I  came  home.  Out 
of  twenty  sermons  that  I  have  preached,  nineteen 
have  been  new  ones ;  but  the  labor  of  preparing 
them  has  not  been  so  exhausting  as  anxiety  lest  they 
should  fail  to  interest  the  people  after  they  were 
ready.  Thus  far,  however,  there  has  been  no  lack  of 
encouragement.  The  great  majority  of  the  people, 
including  all  the  "old  guard"  who  have  been  here 
for  years,  are  firm  friends  of  mine,  and  as  willing  to 
have  me  spare  myself  as  you  yourself  can  be.  Many 
of  my  very  best  parishioners,  however,  have  moved 
away,  and  those  who  are  in  their  places  "know  not 
Joseph." 

Although  I  received  not  a  dollar  from  my  society 
the  year  that  I  was  absent,  the  current  expenses  ex- 
ceeded the  income  between  seven  and  nine  hundred 
dollars  ;  so  that  this  year  we  must  raise  nearly  three 
times  as  much  as  was  raised  last,  if  we  are  to  escape 
indebtedness.  While  I  was  away,  one  of  our  largest 
contributors  lost  his  interest  in  the  services,  and 
moved  a  little  way  out  of  town ;  and  now  it  is  difficult 
to  revive  his  willingness  to  do  and  give.  The  other 
churches  of  the  city  are  provided  with  abler  preachers 
than  they  ever  had  before,  and  they  are  more  cordial 
to  strangers  than  I  can  induce  my  people  to  be. 
Still,  there  is  a  disposition  to  be  more  active,  our 
congregations  are  good,  and  more  than  half  of  the 
debt  has  been  paid  by  subscriptions  and  extra  assess- 
ments of  the  pews.     If  I  had  a  little  more  strength 


62  Thomas  J.  Mumford. 

and  hope,  I  could  fight  it  through ;  and  I  am  disposed 
to  try  it,  as  it  is. 

My  family  have  never  seemed  so  dear  to  me,  and 
there  are  at  least  a  few  friends  in  Detroit  to  whom  I 
am  most  devotedly  attached.  If  I  die  first,  I  shall 
wish  them  near  me  at  the  last  of  earth ;  and,  if  they 
go  before  me,  I  wish  to  pay  the  tribute  to  their  worth 
that  cannot  be  as  well  said  by  any  other  lips. 

The  constant  hurry  and  drain  of  this  outpost  have 
prevented  my  acquiring  that  scholastic  style  which  is 
preferred  in  New  England,  and  it  would  be  as  easy 
to  work  on  after  the  old  fashion  here  as  to  learn  new 
modes  of  thinking  and  writing  elsewhere. 

Your  playful  proposition  of  a  barter  of  churches 
is  decidedly  complimentary  to  me ;  but  I  should  not 
dare  to  undertake  to  fill  your  place  for  any  length 
of  time,  and  your  people  will  not  allow  you  to  leave 
them  again. 

I  go  to  the  gymnasium,  and  my  strength  increases. 
If  I  could  get  rid  of  dissatisfaction  with  myself,  and 
be  contented  with  doing  what  I  can,  I  should  get 
along  very  well ;  but  I  am  too  much  beset  by  concern 
lest  my  duties  to  God  and  men  are  imperfectly 
performed.  I  need  to  be  "justified  by  faith,"  for- 
getting the  works  of  the  law. 

Meadville,  July  7,  1S60. 

I  ought  to  have  written  to  you  some  time  ago,  to 

relieve  some  of   the  fears  naturally  excited    by  my 

lugubrious  communication.    The  troubles  in  my  head 

probably  remain  about  the  same ;  but  the  rest  of  the 


Life  and  Letters.  63 

last  month,  the  pleasing  excitements  at  Ouincy  and 
this  dear  place  have  caused  me  to  feel  temporarily 
better.  When  I  resume  my  labors,  I  intend  to  try  a 
vesper  service,  with  extemporaneous  remarks;  and,  if 
that  does  not  prove  satisfactory,  I  must  quit  my  post. 
I  came  away  from  Detroit  leaving  my  people  in  the 
best  of  spirits  on  account  of  the  success  of  our  first 
"  Festival  and  Fair."  Although  hastily  prepared  for, 
it  yielded  more  than  five  hundred  dollars  clear  profit. 
This  finishes  wiping  out  the  debt  which  I  found 
awaiting  me  when  I  got   back  from  New  England. 

Meadville,  Oct.  27,  1S60. 

I  am  glad  you  approve  the  step  that  I  have  felt 
obliged  to  take.  Already  I  begin  to  breathe  "  freer 
and  deeper."  A  year  or  two  at  Marietta  will  prob- 
ably restore  me  to  my  full  vigor,  and  I  shall  not  be 
astonished  to  find  myself  stronger  than  I  have  ever 
been  before. 

I  felt  drawn  to  this  place  to  see  Edgar  Huide- 
koper,  who  is  to  spend  the  winter  at  the  South,  and 
may  never  return.  He  is  one  of  my  truest  and  most 
devoted  friends.  How  I  do  thank  God  for  the  love 
of  the  noble  that  he  has  vouchsafed  to  give  me !  It 
makes  me  feel  richer  than  Astor  to  count  over  the 
heavenly  treasures  that  can  be  taken  out  of  this 
world. 

Detroit,  Nov.  19,  i860. 
It  is  very  hard  leaving  Detroit.     I  had  full  confi- 
dence in  the  general  affection  of  my  people,  but  I 
did  not  realize  that  all  of  them  loved  me  so  much. 


64  TJionias   J.  Mumford. 

nor  that  I  had  so  many  friends  outside  of  my  church. 
I  leave  the  society  in  very  fair  condition,  and  go 
away  without  an  enemy,  I  believe,  and  hardly  a 
lukewarm  friend.  How  can  I  be  sufficiently  grateful 
for  all  this  affection  ! 


VI. 

AT  MARIETTA. 

Letters  on  the  War.  —  Forecast  of  the  Future.  —  Interesting 
Reminiscences  of  Early  Life  in  the  South.  —  A  Scare  at 
Marietta.  —  Second  Marriage. 

Marietta,  Jan.  25,  1S62. 

How  the  war  drags !  Sometimes  I  have  grave 
fears  arising  out  of  the  timidity  of  the  Administra- 
tion, and  the  inevitable  complaints  that  will  attend 
the  first  attempt  to  enforce  direct  taxation.  You 
know  the  Constitution  distributes  such  taxes  accord- 
ing to  population.  Already  the  Western  papers  are 
raising  the  cry  that  in  fairness  it  must  be  according 
to  wealtJi. 

There  are  a  few  promising  omens.  War  with 
England  is  at  least  postponed.  There  is  reason  to 
hope  for  a  general  pressure  upon  the  rebels,  from  all 
quarters,  if  McClellan  ever  recovers  from  his  slow 
fever.  The  new  Secretary  begins  well.  Burnside  is 
trustworthy.  The  country  is  cheered  by  news  of  a 
victory  in  Kentucky,  Cheever  is  tolerated  at  Wash- 
ington, and  Charles  Sumner  has  become  the  leader 
of  the  American  Senate !  I  extract  comfort  from 
this  dilemma :  If  we  have  an  early  and  easy  success, 
the  war  will  be  over,  and  in  the  national  pillion  the 
Slave  Power  will  hereafter  ride  behind ;  if  the  strife 
is  prolonged  and  desperate,  there  will  be  no  Slave 
Power  left  at  the  end  of  the  struggle. 


66  TJiornas   J.  Miimford. 

Feb.  20,  1S62 

I  have  just  seen  Parker  Pillsbiiry's  letter  in  the  last 
Anti-Slavery  Standard,  which  tells  of  your  severe  ill- 
ness at  Albany.  From  his  mention  of  your  illness, 
I  am  encouraged  to  believe  that,  if  violent,  it  may 
have  been  a  brief  attack. 

You  wrote  before  our  recent  victories,  and  still 
your  tone  was  very  hopeful.  You  appeared  to  be 
confident  that  the  Slave  Power  is  soon  to  be  crushed, 
and  thousands  of  the  slave-holders  banished  from 
the  country.  I  am  writing  just  after  much  cheering 
news,  and  yet  I  cannot  rid  myself  of  the  appre- 
hension that  the  anti-slavery  cause  may  not  have 
seen  its  worst  days  in  our  land.  I  dread  the  conse- 
quences of  the  easy  triumph  that  seems  to  be  at 
hand.  If  we  continue  to  prevail,  the  end  of  strife 
must  be  near.  Suppose  the  Southerners  are  shrewd 
enough  to  surrender  the  moment  their  cause  be- 
comes hopeless,  and,  professing  regret  for  past 
errors,  offer  to  return  to  the  old  Constitution  and 
Union.  In  the  reign  of  "good  feeling"  that  will 
come  with  peace  they  will  not  receive  very  harsh 
treatment  at  the  hands  of  such  men  as  Lincoln  and 
Seward.  Then  may  come  a  war  with  England,  in 
which  our  present  division  may  be  forgotten  for 
several  years.  Then  will  come  the  next  Presi- 
dential election.  Let  the  restored  South  unite  as  of 
old  with  Northern  Democrats  who  can  charge  the 
corruptions  of  the  war  upon  the  Administration,  and 
thus  win  many  votes  from  a  heavily-taxed  people, 
an:i  once  more  the  Slave  Power  leaps  into  the  saddle. 


Life  and  Letters.  67 

with  sharpened  spurs  on  its  heels  and  a  new  cracker 
on  the  lash  that  has  scourged  all  opponents  of  the 
Fugitive  Slave  Law.  The  pro-slavery  Democrats 
have  at  least  their  share  of  the  heroes  of  this  war. 
The  first  Congress  after  our  peace  will  be  full  of 
them.  God  knows  that  in  spite  of  my  love  for  a  few 
individuals  at  the  South,  I  would  not  murmur  if  the 
fate  of  Tories  should  be  visited  on  slave-holders ; 
but  I  think  the  heavy  hand  of  the  United  States 
Government  is  just  as  likely  to  strike  down  Garrison 
and  lock  up  Phillips.  Of  course,  the  final  doom  of 
slavery  is  certain  ;  but  it  may  yet  be  powerful  enough 
to  control  this  generation  of  Englishmen  and  Amer- 
icans. This  is  a  dark,  damp  day.  I  ba\"e  been  much 
elated  by  the  success  at  Fort  Donelson.  Perhaps  I 
am  writing  under  the  influence  of  the  reaction  of 
feeling  that  follows  intense  excitement.  I  shall 
be  glad  to  find  that  you  are  by  far  the  better 
prophet.  .  .  . 

You  may  be  interested  in  the  fact  that  the  scene 
of  the  bombardment  at  Port  Royal  is  not  far  from 
my  native  place.  I  was  born  at  Gillisonville,  about 
thirty  miles  from  Beaufort.  During  his  stay  at  the 
South,  my  father  was  postmaster  at  Coosawhatchie 
and  at  Pocataligo.  His  store  was  at  Coosawhatchie, 
and  he  became  intimately  acquainted  with  many  lead- 
ing men,  including  Mr.  Rhett,  then  named  Barnwell, 
Mr.  Petigru,  the  best  lawyer  in  the  State  and  almost 
the  only  consistent  Unionist,  and  Henry  Bailey,  who 
was  the  Attorney-General  who  warned  Mr.  Hoar  to 
leave  Charleston.     Mr.  Bailey  died  before  my  father, 


68  TJiomas   J.  ^Iiunford. 

I  think,  and  I  remember  destroying  a  large  bundle 
of  his  letters  which  I  had  read  with  intense  interest. 
I  am  quite  sure  that  the  Goddard  Bailey  who  stole 
the  respectable  sum  of  ^800  worth  of  bonds  from 
the  United  States  Government  was  his  son,  and 
sometimes  my  playmate.  Mr.  Colcock,  Collector 
of  the  Port  of  Charleston,  and  formerly  member  of 
Congress,  was  my  father's  lawyer ;  and  once,  ten  or 
twelve  years  ago,  when  mot;her  was  in  want  of  ready 
money,  he  sent  her  a  large  draft  to  pay  a  very  old 
claim  that  he  had  chanced  to  collect.  He  refused 
all  compensation  for  his  services  in  the  matter. 
Father  was  once  toasted  at  a  dinner  in  Beaufort 
District  as  "  Mumford  —  the  honest  Yankee."  It 
was  intended  for  a  compliment,  but  he  felt  the  blow 
at  the  North  that  it  implied.  Anticipating  a  col- 
lision at  an  earlier  day  than  it  has  occurred,  he  dis- 
posed of  his  property  after  the  Nullification  troubles, 
and  returned  to  Rhode  Island.  Mother  left  the 
South  with  great  reluctance.  Indeed,  it  almost  broke 
her  heart.  Now,  however,  she  is  glad  that  we  came. 
About  eight  years  since,  she  spent  a  winter  with 
some  of  our  cousins  in  the  old  neighborhood,  but  she 
had  no  desire  to  remain  permanently. 

While  I  appreciate  their  follies  and  sins,  my  heart 
persists  in  tender  memories  of  the  kindnesses  of  some 
of  those  planters,  and  I  often  wonder  how  they  are 
faring  in  these  terrible  days.  On  one  plantation 
where  they  love  us  still,  a  mother  and  two  unmarried 
daughters  live  with  sixty  or  seventy  slaves,  and  only 
an   overseer  for   their   guardian.      My  father  never 


Life  and  Letters.  69 

owned  more  than  six  slaves  at  a  time,  keeping  just 
enough  for  house  servants.  When  we  were  there, 
Coosawhatchie  had  the  Court  House,  but  now  it  is  at 
Gillisonvillc.  Those  towns  gjre  all  villages  of  the 
slenderest  populations. 

July  8,  1862. 

You  saw  our  watchword  at  the  Detroit  Confer- 
ence, "Mercy  for  the  South;  Death  to  Slavery!" 
I  wish  you  could  have  been  there.  Every  voice  was 
cordially  for  freedom. 

I  am  to  leave  Marietta  in  a  few  weeks.  My  stay 
here  has  been  delightful  to  me.  My  relations  to  the 
society  of  Unitarians  have  been  as  agreeable  as  pos- 
sible, and  all  denominations,  including  the  Catholics, 
have  treated  me  with  great  kindness.  But  the  cli- 
mate is  too  enervating.  If  I  am  ever  to  be  strong,  I 
must  sj^end  some  time  in  a  more  bracing  air.  So  I 
am  going  to  live  at  Groton,  Mass.,  for  a  year,  at  the 
home  of  my  wife's  *  mother.  Of  course  you  will 
come  to  see  us.  We  will  give  you  a  room  from 
which  you  may  see  Wachusett  and  Monadnock  at 
one  look. 

Sometimes  the  war  weighs  heavily  on  my  heart, 
but  God  is  so  evidently  dealing  with  us  that  I  have 
few  permanent  fears.  Our  weather  is  terribly  hot. 
I  pity    the   wounded  who    cannot  get  air   and  ice. 

•Married  in  Groton,  Mass.,  Aug.  27,  1S61,  Thomas  James  Mumford  and  Eliza- 
beth Goodrich  Warren. 


VII. 

REMOVAL  TO  NEW  ENGLAND. 

Birth  of  his  Son. — At  Concord,  Yonkers,  Groton,  and  Green- 
field. —  Death  of  his  Mother.  —  Call  to  Dorchester. 

Marietta,  July  30,  1862. 
Yesterday  noon  we  heard  that  the  rebels  were 
attacking  Parkersburg  in  strong  force.  The  Mayor 
of  Parkersburg  sent  for  help  to  our  mayor.  Mari- 
etta was  aroused.  Companies  were  formed,  —  one 
to  go  to  Parkersburg  immediately.  Horsemen  were 
sent  to  alarm  the  country  towns.  Reinforcements 
were  asked  from  Athens,  Then  came  another  mes- 
sage from  Parkersburg:  "You  need  not  come.  Gov. 
Pierpont  has  sent  us  four  hundred  soldiers  from 
Clarksburg."  But  at  half-past  ten,  last  night,  there 
was  a  great  panic  again.  It  was  announced  that  the 
rebels  were  near  Marietta,  and  every  one  turned  out. 
At  every  step  you  met  an  armed  man.  Eighty  had 
come  from  Athens  to  help  us,  and  they  were  mar- 
shalled with  the  rest.  The  night  wore  away,  but 
the  enemy  did  not  come.  General  result:  Nobody 
killed,  nobody  wounded,  nobody  missing,  but  every- 
body, almost,  severely  scared.  Finding  Mrs.  W. 
uneasy,  I  slept  there.  Had  a  good  bed,  a  good 
breakfast,  and  now  I  am  ready  for  another  panic.  .  .  . 
The  rebels  are  in  Indiana.     They  may  be  here  yet. 


Life  and  Letters.  •         71 

If  they  are  not  spry,  I  shall  be  gone ;  and  what  a 
prize  they  will  lose!  It  looks  now  as  if  Lincoln 
must  put  his  foot  down  harder.  If  there  must  be 
war,  I  believe  in  having  it  as  infernal  as  possible,  so 
that  the  world  will  never  want  another. 

Yours,  as  always, 

T.  J.  MUMFORD. 

A  few  days  after  these  words  were  written  he  left  Marietta, 
where  he  had  passed  nearly  two  pleasant  years.  He  wrote, 
"  There  is  a  great  deal  that  is  depressing  to  me  in  this  leaving 
a  parish.  It  is  hard  to  part  from  those  who  love  you."  But 
circumstances  made  it  seem  best  for  him  to  seek  a  home  in 
the  more  bracing  climate  of  New  England. 

Groton,  Sept.  21,  1862. 

Dear  Father  May,  —  You  ought  to  be  informed  of 
the  arrival  of  all  your  grandchildren.  Yesterday 
there  came  to  us  a  child  whose  naming  did  not  take 
much  time,  for  we  were  ready  for  either  sex.  A  boy 
was  to  be  Edgar  Huidekoper;  a  girl  was  to  be  May, 
in  memory  of  somebody  at  Syracuse.  It  was  a  boy  ! 
Still  I  feel  like  telling  you  of  our  good  intentions, 
even  if  they  were  contingent  ones,  and  not  to  prove 
even  a  nominal  expression  of  gratitude  and  love. 

If  ]\lr.  Moors,  of  Greenfield,  goes  to  the  war,  I  am 
to  take  his  pulpit  for  nine  months.  If  he  does  not 
go,  I  am  to  take  care  of  Deerfield,  James  Hosmer 
having  enlisted  as  a  private. 

Greenfield,  March  2,  1S63. 

Walter  Scott  tells  us  that,  when  Ivanhoe  rode  into 

the  lists  at  the  famous  tournament,  "the  device  on  his 


72  Thomas  J.  Mmnford. 

shield  was  a  young  oak-tree  pulled  up  by  the  roots, 
with  the  Spanish  word  DcsdicJiado,  signifying  Disin- 
herited" ;  and  I  write  to  ask  if  it  can  be  true  that  you 
intend  to  doom  me  to  appear  in  similar  guise  when  I 
go  forth  to  my  future  encounters  with  the  world,  the 
flesh,  and  the  devil  ?  It  is  about  five  months  since 
I  told  you  that  while  we  were  expecting  our  child, 
guessing  that  it  would  prove  a  girl,  we  had  decided 
to  name  her  May  Mumford,  —  when  behold  it  was 
a  boy,  and  had  to  be  called  Edgar  Huidekoper ! 
This,  with  other  things  supposed  to  be  dipped  in 
honey,  and  not  flavored  in  the  least  with  the  most 
diluted  gall,  was  duly  mailed,  and  I  suppose  it  reached 
the  saline  city.  Probably  you  have  been  too  busy, 
or  too  anxious,  or  too  sad  to  reply ;  but  please  to  be 
reminded  that  there  is  a  blessed  urchin  nearly  six 
months  old  who  is  still  ignorant  whether  or  not  you 
have  found  it  in  your  heart  to  forgive  his  masculine 
gender.  He  is  so  bright  and  merry  that  sometimes 
he  charms  us  into  transient  forgetfulness  that  there 
is  any  war  in  the  land. 

I  am  not  a  bit  disheartened  about  the  war.  My 
chief  wonder  is  that  we  have  not  done  worse.  It 
would  not  shake  my  faith  in  the  result  if  the  most 
shameful  compromise  should  be  made.  Even  if  Jef- 
ferson Davis  should  be  the  next  President  of  a  recon- 
structed Union,  it  might  be  the  best  way  to  prevent 
our  wounds  from  being  lightly  healed. 

"  Oh,  blessed  is  he  to  whom  is  given 
•  The  instinct  that  can  tell 

That  God  is  on  the  field,  when  he 
Is  most  invisible  I  " 


J 


Life  and  Letters.  J I 

Greenfield  is  a  very  pleasant  place  to  preach  in. 
The  congregations  are  large,  and  the  music  is 
capital. 

Concord,  N.  H.,  Nov.  30,  1863. 

While  I  wait  for  a  train  to  take  me  home  from 
this  pleasant  town  where  Parker  Pillsbury  atones  for 
Frank  Pierce,  I  will  borrow  a  pen,  and  wield  it  as 
briskly  as  possible. 

The  cause  of  the  country  is  getting  stronger  every 
day.  What  changes  for  the  better  you  have  wit- 
nessed in  your  lifetime !  How  clear  and  strong 
must  be  your  testimony  in  favor  of  the  expediency 
of  principle  and  the  power  of  the  truth  ! 

I  have  opportunities  to  go  to  Northampton  and 
another  place.  It  is  not  decided  yet  whether  I  shall 
have  a  call  to  the  Dorchester  parish  or  not.  I  hope 
to  preach  at  Yonkers  before  I  settle  down.  ...  I 
have  not  seen  the  "  Life  of  Parker,"  but  a  friend 
who  has  seen  it  keeps  tantalizing  me  with  crumbs 
from  the  tempting  feast. 

Yonkers,  Sunday  Evening,  Jan.  3,  1864. 

My  dear  Z.,  —  There  is  half  an  hour  before  the 
vesper  service,  and  I  must  give  it  to  you. 

On  my  way  from  Meadville  I  came  near  making 
that  $4,000  out  of  the  life-insurance  offices.  Coming 
down  hill  at  the  rate  of  thirty  miles  an  hour,  three 
cars  got  off  the  track,  and  two  of  them  were  badly 
smashed,  bruising  some  of  the  passengers.  Our  car 
was  less  injured;  but  we  were  off  the  track  for  nearly 
a  mile,  and   we   stopped   on  an   embankment   near 


74  TJiovias  J.  Mmnford. 

a  bridge  over  a  small  stream.  I  never  had  such  a 
jolting  before,  but  I  confess  that  I  was  so  wicked  as 
to  be  amused  at  seeing  the  stove  dance  itself  to 
pieces;  and  you  would  have  been  shocked  to  see 
that,  in  picking  up  my  baggage,  I  went  back  to  get 
the  lunch  that  F.'s  dear  hands  had  prepared  for  me. 
I  am  at  Mr.  E.  C.'s  palace.  It  is  on  a  hillside,  and 
you  can  look  up  and  down  the  noble  Hudson  for 
miles.  The  Palisades  are  right  across  the  river.  It 
seems  almost  wrong  to  be  here  without  you.  The 
church  is  the  most  exquisite  little  affair  that  I  ever 
saw  or  dreamed  of.  Music  perfectly  "  divine,"  as 
good  as  the  best  in  the  New  York  churches.  To- 
night I  am  to  extemporize. 

Tuesday,  lo  a.m. 

I  am  invited  to  spend  the  week  here.  You  would 
like  the  C.'s.  Mr.  C.  is  president  of  the  village  and 
of  a  bank,  is  at  the  head  of  a  large  forwarding  house 
in  New  York  City,  and  the  controlling  spirit  of  a 
factory  here,  which  employs  six  hundred  and  fifty 
men.  With  all  his  cares,  he  is  genial  and  even 
seems  to  have  leisure  for  his  family.  He  is  a  fear- 
less fellow,  likes  Wendell  Phillips,  takes  the  Liber- 
ator, and  is  about  to  close  the  two  hundred  liquor 
shops  of  the  place,  —  on  Sunday,  at  least.  At  the 
time  of  the  New  York  riots,  the  mob  threatened  to 
come  here  and  burn  this  splendid  house  over  his 
head,  but  he  was  too  well  prepared  to  defend  it. 
His  wife  shares  his  spirit.  She  says  all  false  con- 
formities and  weak  silences  in  the  presence  of  folly 
and  sin  arc    to   be  abhorred  and  despised.     L.   W* 


Life  and  Letters.  75 

would  clap  her  hands  and  say  grace  over  both  of 
them. 

I  am  a  good  deal  perplexed  about  the  parishes.* 
Dorchester  is  not  the  most  attractive  place  on  many 
accounts,  but  I  really  feel  called  of  God  to  under- 
take a  work  there.  If  I  thought  that  we  could  live 
on  the  salary  offered,  I  should  feel  like  saying  "Yes" 
at  once ;  not  because  I  might  not  get  a  more  prom- 
inent place,  but  because  I  feel  sure  I  can  be  most 
permanently  useful  there. 

Do  make  your  plans  to  meet  me  in  Worcester, 
and  come  prepared  to  go  to  Boston  and  Dorchester, 
that  we  may  "look  around."  I  am  still  inclined  to 
go  there.  Staples,  of  Brooklyn,  is  breaking  down 
utterly  in  health,  just  when  his  success  is  complete 
in  the  pulpit.  I  must  live  more  slowly,  and  last 
longer,  if  I  care  for  you  and  the  boy  Edgar ;  and  I 
reckon  I  do  a  trifle. 

I  am  writing  in  Mr.  C.'s  beautiful  library,  where 
I  can  look  down  the  Hudson  for  at  least  ten  miles. 
After  a  long  and  severe  storm  it  is  clearing  away, 
and  the  sunlight  relieves  the  severity  of  the  frowning 
Palisades.  Still  I  am  a  little  sad,  because  I  hoped  to 
be  at  home  to-day.     A  thousand  kisses  for  the  baby. 

Groton,  Feb.  13,  1S64. 

Dear  Father  May,  —  Your  cordial  letter  followed 

me  to  Brooklyn,  where  I  was  staying  with  a  family 

of  true-hearted   Germans,  whose  friendship  will  be 

one  of  my  immortal  joys. 

•He  was  invited  to  take  charge  of  the  pulpit  in  Yonkers,  Concord,  N.H.,  and 
Northampton  about  the  same  time  that  he  was  called  to  Dorchester. 


y6  TJiomas  J.  Mumford. 

You  were  right  in  supposing  that  it  was  my 
mother's  departure  which  you  saw  announced  in  the 
papers.  She  was  very  ill  only  a  week  or  ten  days. 
I  was  with  her  the  last  forty-eight  hours  of  her 
earthly  life,  and  my  coming  seemed  to  be  all  that  she 
waited  for.  If  you  have  read  the  paper  on  "  The 
Episcopal  Church "  in  the  last  Unitarian  MontJily, 
you  may  have  noticed  how  I  was  impressed  at  her 
funeral. 

The  death  of  Staples  is  a  great  loss  to  us.  His 
going  away  reminds  me  of  the  duty  of  asking  you, 
in  view  of  life's  uncertainties,  if  you  have  ever  com- 
menced in  earnest  those  autobiographical  letters 
which  I  have  so  often  urged  you  to  begin  to  write  to 
somebody.  By  preparing  one  a  month  with  scrupu- 
lous regularity,  and  sending  it  where  it  will  be  care- 
fully preserved,  you  will  make  a  needed  preparation 
for  the  influence  which  should  live  after  you  are 
called  away.  I  am  not  so  selfish  as  to  ask  that  these 
letters  should  be  addressed  to  me.  Write  them  to 
any  of  your  tried  and  true  ones,  and  I  shall  be  con- 
tented. 

Parker's  life  was  largely  in  his  correspondence ; 
but  there  are  many  of  the  best  incidents  of  your 
career  of  which  your  letters  contain  nothing. 

I  am  to  be  installed  over  the  Dorchester  parish  on 
the  2d  day  of  March.  If  the  time  had  not  been  so 
short,  the  distance  so  great,  and  the  season  so  in- 
clement, I  should  have  tried  to  have  you  come  on 
and   take  some  part ;    but  these  considerations  pre- 


Life  and  Letters.  yj 

vented  my  attempting  it.  J.  F.  Clarke  is  to  preach 
the  sermon,  and  Brother  Tilden  is  to  represent  you  in 
an  address  to  the  people. 

Our  boy  is  a  superb  fellow,  and  he  sits  in  the  sun- 
shine singing  as  I  write.  He  has  dark  hazel  eyes,  a 
voice  of  ravishing  sweetness,  and  a  "  smile  that  cheers 
Jike  dawn  of  dav." 


VIII. 

THE   EPISCOPAL   CHURCH* 

There  are  hours  in  every  man's  life  when  he  feels, 
with  peculiar  depth  and  liveliness  of  emotion,  the 
power  of  the  past.  At  such  a  season,  I  have  been 
drawn,  quite  recently,  in  that  direction  in  which  so 
many  persons  are  nowadays  attracted, —  I  mean 
towards  the  Episcopal  Church. 

My  first  and  best  friend  had  ended  her  long  earthly 
life  of  most  affectionate  self-renunciation,  and  her 
freed  spirit  had  gone  to  God  who  gave  it.  Although 
she  had  no  theology  that  might  not  be  summed  up 
in  half  a  verse  of  one  of  John's  epistles,  — "God  is 
love ;  and  he  that  dwelleth  in  love  dwelleth  in  God, 
and  God  in  him,"  —  it  was  fitting  that  her  body 
should  be  buried  according  to  the  rites  of  the  church 
of  which  she  had  been  for  many  years  a  member. 
We  carried  the  precious  dust  to  a  beautiful  edifice, 
where  a  clergyman  whom  she  had  honored  and  loved, 
not  so  much  for  his  doctrinal  accuracy  as  for  his 
generous  fidelity  to  the  poor,  read  the  service  so  emi- 
nently appropriate  for  those  who  go  to  their  fathers 
in  peace  and  are  buried  in  a  good  old  age, —  adding 
some  words  of  his  own  that  were  freighted  with  all 

•Part  of  the  paper  with  this  caption,  to  wliich  allusion  is  made  in  the  pre- 
ceding letter. 


Life  and  Le Iters.  79 

the  tenderness  and  beauty  of  the  Christian  faith. 
As  I  sat  there  in  that  stately  house  of  prayer,  lis- 
tening to  expressions  that  awakened  memories  of 
other  departures,  and  softened  by  the  plaintive,  yet 
far  from  hopeless  strains  of  a  noble  organ,  I  confess 
that  it  was  with  a  feeling  somewhat  akin  to  the 
longings  of  homesickness.  My  eyes  rested  on  the 
tablets  behind  the  altar,  which  resembled  those 
from  which  I  learned  my  earliest  scriptural  lessons 
when  a  child  at  church.  The  reading-desk  reminded 
me  of  my  father's  pale  and  earnest  face,  when,  as 
one  of  the  wardens,  he  used  to  read  the  services  in 
the  absence  or  illness  of  the  minister.  As  we  bowed 
our  heads  in  prayer,  I  could  almost  fancy  that  he 
was  again  beside  me  at  the  head  of  the  pew ;  and 
I  caught  myself  listening  for  his  low,  yet  clear 
responses.  The  intervening  years  of  my  heretical 
ministry  were  all  forgotten  ;  and,  for  the  hour,  I  felt 
that  my  truant  feet  were  once  more  treading  within 
the  sacred  precincts  of  the  homestead  for  my  soul. 
Thus  it  continued  as  long  as  mere  emotion  reigned; 
and  I  could  hear  in  my  sadness  only  the  sweet  voices 
of  the  past,  which  seemed  to  bid  me  return.  As 
soon,  however,  as  reason  and  conscience  reasserted 
that  there  are  principles  as  well  as  sentiments,  I  saw 
how  impassable  is  the  chasm  which  separates  me 
from  the  church  of  my  youth. 

No  bishopric,  even  in  an  Empire  State,  not  all  the 
treasures  of  Trinity  Church,  could  tempt  me  from 
the  place  where  I  sit,  at  the  feet  of  John  G.  Whittier, 
as  he  writes  these  colden  lines  :  "  I  cannot  be  suffi- 


8o  Thomas  J.  Mumford. 

ciently  thankful  to  the  Divine  Providence  which 
turned  me  so  early  away  from  what  Roger  Williams 
calls  'the  world's  great  trinity,  pleasure,  profit,  and 
honor,'  to  take  side  with  the  poor  and  oppressed.  I 
set  a  higher  value  on  my  name  as  appended  to  the 
anti-slavery  declaration  of  1833  than  on  the  title- 
page  of  any  book.  Looking  over  a  life  marked  by 
many  errors  and  shortcomings,  I  rejoice  that  I  have 
been  able  to  maintain  the  pledge  of  that  signature ; 
and  that,  in  the  long  intervening  years, — 

"'My  voice,  though  not  the  loudest,  has  been  heard 
Wherever  Freedom  raised  her  cry  of  pain.' " 


IX. 


LIFE  IN  DORCHESTER. 

Pastoral  and  Friendly  Letters. —  Interest  in  his  Parish. — 
Gratitude  to  Cliannijig. — Anecdote  of  Robert  Collyer. — 
Confidence  in  the  Truth. — Help  to  a  Needy  Soul. — Lit- 
erary Work. — Helps  the  Monthly  Journal  ajid  Sunday 
School  Gazette. — Proposes  the  Theological  Club. — As- 
sistant Editor  of  The  Christian  Register. — The  May 
Memorial. 

For  glimpses  into  the  closing  years  of  his  ministerial  life,  ex- 
tending from  March  2,  1864,  to  March  2,  1872,  we  clip  not  only 
from  the  remaining  letters  to  Samuel  J.  May,  but  also  from 
those  addressed  to  some  of  his  parishioners,  and  others  who 
were  his  intimate  personal  friends:  — 

Dorchester,  April  28,  1S64. 
My  dear  Mrs.  W., —  You  need  not  fear  that  I  shall 
be  running  off  from  my  parish  very  soon.  So  long  as 
I  can  interest  the  people,  I  shall  not  seek  any  other 
field.  It  seems  to  me  there  is  something  to  be  done 
here.  If  I  can  gather  some  of  these  young  men  and 
women  into  the  fold  of  the  Good  Shepherd,  I  shall 
be  a  far  happier  man ;  not  so  much  because  of  any 
visible  success  on  my  part  as  on  account  of  the 
strength  and  peace  and  joy  secured  for  them.  It 
is  so  devoutly  to  be  desired  that  they  may  under- 
stand that  an  earnest  life  is  not  necessarily  a  dull 
one,  but  that  the  better  we  are,  the  more  truly  genial 
shall  we  become  ! 


82  Thomas  J.  Mumford. 

Groton,  Mass.,  Aug.  19,  1S64. 

We  are  all  sorry  to  lea\'e  Groton,  but  very  glad  to 
look  forward  to  our  new  home.  If  I  cannot  be  use- 
ful there,  I  shall  be  very  much  disappointed.  I  hope 
they  will  not  persist  in  putting  me  on  the  school 
committee,  however;  for,  although  I  mean  to  visit 
the  schools  frequently,  I  prefer  to  do  so  in  an  unoffi- 
cial capacity.  Indeed,  I  know  of  several  friends  who 
have  had  serious  trouble  in  their  parishes  on  account 
of  committee  affairs.  Few  parents  are  reasonable 
when  a  child's  interest  and  reputation  are  at  stake; 
and  a  faithful  ministry  has  enough  trials  and  col- 
lisions of  its  own,  particularly  in  a  village.  .  .  . 

Master  Edgar  seems  to  be  in  fine  health.  Yes- 
terday he  spent  an  hour  at  the  railroad  station, 
where  he  manifested  the  liveliest  appreciation  of 
the  beauty  of  the  locomotive.  I  do  not  think  he 
will  see  anything  so  lovely  again  until  he  gets  a 
fortunate  glimpse  of  Mr.  C.'s  mule. 

Oct.  27,  1S64. 

Dear  Father  May,  —  At  the  eleventh  hour,  I  send 
you  by  express,  charges  prepaid,  two  hundred  and 
fifty  excellent  campaign  documents,  for  circulation  in 
Onondaga  County.  Do  sec  that  they  are  given  to 
men  who  will  take  pains  to  use  them  wisely  and  well. 

Last  Sunday  I  preached  at  King's  Chapel,  dining 
with  the  senior  warden, —  your  friend  Mr.  George 
B.  Emerson.  We  had  some  sweet  talk  of  you,  and 
your  ears  ought  to  have  been  burned  to  cinders. 
He  is  a  noble  man,  and  I  thank  him  for  valuable 
hints  concerning  my  delivery. 


Life  and  Letters.  83 

Dorchester,  Jan.  3,  1S67. 

My  dear  JMiss  C, —  It  is  a  vast  comfort  and  en- 
couragement to  be  assured  that  I  have  done  anybody 
the  least  good.  But  \v!i:it  Shakspeare  says  of  jests 
is  equally  true  of  sermons, —  that  their  prosperity 
depends  more  on  the  ears  that  hear  than  on  the 
tongues  that  speak.  ...  It  is  always  pleasant  to  see 
you  at  church.  It  encourages  me  to  have  you  say 
that  any  service  of  mine  interests  and  helps  you, 
for  my  ministerial  misgivings  have  always  been 
numerous,  and  often  painful.  ]\Iy  humblest  hours 
have  been  spent  in  the  pulpit.  .  .  . 

You  need  not  fear  that  I  shall  leave  my  parish 
for  a  larger  one  if  I  can  get  it.  My  ambition  is 
satisfied.  Samuel  J.  May  defines  success  in  life  as 
"loving  and  being  loved,"  and  I  accept  the  defini- 
tion. When  I  am  sounded  about  being  satisfied 
with  my  position,  I  always  answer,  "Yes";  and  that 
ends  it.  Still,  I  dwell  in  a  tent,  and  if  the  Lord  tells 
me,  to-morrow,  to  go  to  Oregon,  I  trust  I  shall  have 
grace  given  me  to  start.  .  .  . 

The  name  of  Channing  is  very  sacred  to  me.  Some- 
times it  has  seemed  next  in  sanctity  and  blessing 
to  the  name  of  Christ.  Certainly  no  human  teacher 
has  done  more  for  my  mind  and  heart  than  your 
uncle.  I  seldom  read  his  works  now;  but  it  is  on 
account  of  the  intense  delight  with  which  my  soul 
almost  lived  upon  them  when  I  was  breaking  the 
shackles  of  my  pro-slavery  and  Episcopal  education. 
I  scarcely  need  the  books  to  remind  me  of  what  he 
said  and  did  for  his  race. 


84  Thomas  J.  Miimford. 

Milton,  Mass.,  June  4,  1867. 

Dear  X.,  —  I  dare  not  look  at  the  date  of  your 
good  letter,  which  made  me  very  happy  when  it 
came ;  but  my  chief  consolation  is,  that  it  told  of  the 
arrival  of  wife  and  child,  and  so  I  know  you  have 
been  independent  of  communication  from  foreigners. 
I  have  thought  of  you  ever  so  many  thousand  times. 
Whenever  a  grand  word  is  said  at  any  of  our  gather- 
ings, I  catch  myself  thinking,  "I  wish  X.  could  hear 
that."  Last  week,  at  the  Music  Hall,  one  Judge  N., 
who  evidently  belongs  to  the  itinerant  laity,  and 
now  from  Knoxville,  Tenn.,  told  us  in  a  very  simple 
and  touching  way  how  Samuel  J.  May  converted 
him,  and  that  he  (the  judge)  was  instrumental  in 
converting  you,  somewhere  near  St.  Paul,  and  how 
last  year  he  made  way  for  you  to  preach  somewhere 
on  the  Pacific  coast.  Did  your  ears  burn  when 
we  applauded  his  recruit.^ 

The  Anniversary  meetings  have  really  been  good, 
this  year.  They  were  heralded  by  preaching  to 
crowds  in  the  Boston  Theatre,  where  Robert  Collyer 
got  his  share  of  the  glory.  I  followed  him  to  Lynn, 
etc.,  just  to  listen  to  his  voice,  and  to  look  upon 
his  manly  face, —  for,  after  all,  the  charm  is  in  the 
man.  I  am  reading  his  volume,  "Nature  and  Life"; 
but  I  should  not  half-enjoy  it,  if  I  could  not  inter- 
polate the  tones  and  smiles,  and  now  and  then  the 
tears,  too. 

The  morning  after  he  preached  for  the  first  time 
in  the  theatre,  I  was  with  C.  and  T.     We  heard  that 


Life  and  Letters.  85 

Collyer  was  qnartered  at  the  Tremont  House  (he  was 
at  Bartol's),  so  wc  went  to  call  on  him. 

Inquiring  Minister. —  Is  Mr.  Collyer  here .'' 

Clerk.  —  Yes. 

/.  M.  —  Can  we  sec  him  } 

C.  —  Yes,  by  going  to  the  Howard.  He  is  there 
rehearsing, 

/.  M.  —  It  cannot  be.  It  is  the  Rev.  Mr.  Collyer, 
of  Chicago,  that  we  are  after. 

C. — Oh,  you  mean  the  gentleman  who  appeared 
at  the  Boston,  last  night!     He  has  not  been  here. 

Thus  we  learned  that  there  is  an  actor  named 
Collyer.     This  story  is  true,  and  I  hope  it  is  not  bad, 

Robert  told  me  that  an  ex-Christian,  now  agent  of 
the  American  Unitarian  Association,  at  a  m.eeting 
in  Indiana,  told  the  folks  that  he  had  all  sorts  of 
Unitarian  tracts,  some  of  which  he  could  indorse 
heartily,  but  others  he  could  not.  A  fine  old  Quaker 
came  forward  and  asked  Brother  E,  to  put  aside  the 
tracts  which  he  did  not  like,  and  then  said,  "  Thank 
thee.     I  think  I  will  take  theseT .  .  . 

We  had  Music  Hall  crammed  for  three  days  in 
succession.  The  i^rettiest  sight  of  all  was  the  three 
thousand  children,  Wednesday  afternoon, 

.  .  .  There  are  a  few  bigoted  conservatives  and  a 
few  mischievous  radicals  who  are  determined  to  be 
persecuted ;  but  the  great  mass  of  our  people  mean 
to  be  broad  and  fair  and  free.  If  any  votes  at  all  are 
taken,  somebody  is  liable  to  be  in  the  majority,  and 
somebody  in  the  minority  ;  but  the  truth  will  triumph 
in  the  end,  if  its  advocates  are  patient  and  believing. 


86  T/wmas  J.  Minnford. 

June  c6,  iS68. 

My  dear  Mrs.  S., —  Your  welcome  flowers  and  still 
more  precious  note  were  a  delight,  but  not  a  surprise 
to  me,  this  morning ;  for  you  have  already  taught 
me  to  depend  upon  the  constancy  of  your  friendship 
and  its  timely  and  thoughtful  expressions.  I  respond 
most  heartily  to  all  your  cordial  good-will.  It  is  very 
gratifying  to  know  that  I  am  associated  in  your  mind 
with  one  so  near  and  dear  as  your  eldest  son. 

Some  of  my  friends  are  a  little  impatient  with  me 
for  refusing  to  "  candidate  "  in  several  larger  parishes, 
where  I  am  supposed  to  have  a  "  chance " ;  but  the 
truth  is,  I  am  thoroughly  satisfied  where  I  am.  The 
society  is  not  altogether  what  I  would  like  to  see  it, 
but  it  is  better  than  I  deserve ;  and  I  am  sure  that 
the  whole  world  cannot  give  me  warmer  or  truer 
friends  than  many  to  whom  I  now  minister.  While 
they  are  spared  to  bless  me.  with  their  love,  the 
thought  of  going  away  is  too  painful  to  be  enter- 
tained. 

Aug.  27,  1868. 

You  have  shown  an  almost  startling  knowledge 
of  my  wants  in  sending  me  a  neck-tie  of  your  own 
making.  It  was  precisely  my  most  immediate  and 
pressing  need;  for  my  little  "bow,"  like  some  really 
interesting  visitors,  often  refuses  to  "  stay  on." 

Oct.  12, 1868. 

My  dear  Mrs.  — — ,  Most  heartily  do  I  thank  you 

for  every  assurance   that   I   am  able   to   help   you 

in  any  way.     I  am  truly  sorry  that  you  sometimes 


Life  and  Letters.  8/ 

lack  courage,  and  perhaps  feel  overawed,  even  when 
you  are  drawn  nearest  to  the  Lord  by  your  longings 
and  your  needs.  For  my  own  part,  I  am  grateful 
for  the  confidence  in  his  welcome  which  I  share 
with  the  publicans  and  the  sinners  of  old ;  and  the 
sight  of  his  love  attracts  me  so  powerfully  that  the 
weight  of  sin  and  the  hindrances  of  unworthiness 
are  overcome  at  once.  I  cannot  wrong  Jesus  l^y 
the  least  distrust.  I  know  it  is  his  supreme  delight 
to  lift  us  up,  and  to  lead  us  home,  I  am  conscious 
of  his  response  to  every  imploring  word  and  every 
appealing  look.  Indeed,  he  is  most  near  when  most 
needed ;  and  there  is  no  barrier  so  fatal  as  self- 
complacency  or  self-righteousness.  If  we  would  not 
grieve  him,  we  should  feel  boldest  when  humblest, 
and  most  abounding  in  his  love  when  most  in  need 
of  it.  He  was  "lifted  up"  that  we  might  look  above 
ourselves,  and  away  from  ourselves,  and  remember 
only  the  inviting  voice  and  the  open  arms.  .  .  . 

You  wish  to  do  more  than  you  have  bodily  strength 
to  accomplish  ;  but  remember  that  God  can  accom- 
plish his  own  purposes ;  and,  if  you  do  all  you  can, 
he  will  count  it  enough.  We  cannot  earn  our  full 
salvation.  We  must  be  willing  to  be  "  forgiven 
much,"  and  to  be  forgiven  freely.  You  do  not  ask 
your  children  to  repay  everything.  It  is  the  chief 
bliss  of  the  relation,  that  some  "obligations"  are  to 
be  forever  uncancelled, —  that,  indeed,  they  are  not 
obligations  at  all,  but  gifts  of  generous  love. 

Do  not  fear  that  I  shall  deem  you  so  much  better 
than  you  really  are.     I  have  no  doubt  that  you  are 


88  Thomas  J.  Mumford. 

human, —  that  you  have  sometimes  cried,  and  have 
had  reason  to  cry,  "God  be  merciful  to  me  a  sinner !  " 
I,  too,  have  a  reciprocal  fear  that  you  may  mistake 
my  aspirations  for  my  attainments.  Any  confidence 
that  is  ever  granted  me  comes,  not  from  self-con- 
templation, but  from  the  temporary  absence  of  it. 
I  am  as  utterly  sick  of  myself  as  you  can  possibly 
be  ;  but  I  do  believe  there  is  not  only  pardon,  but 
peace  for  the  penitent,  and  that  God  is  never  so 
happy  as  when  he  beholds  our  homeward  faces  "a 
great  way  off,"  and  runs  to  meet  us.  I  should  feel 
so,  and  I  should  ask  you  'to  feel  so,  whatever  sins  we 
might  have  committed,  and  however  far  and  long  we 
might  have  wandered.  If  we  are  only  truly  sorry, 
and  really  wish  to  do  better,  unless  the  gospel  is 
all  a  delusion  and  Jesus  the  worst  of  deceivers,  the 
past  should  be  forgotten ;  for  it  is  forgiven.  Per- 
haps this  will  not  tell  you  anything  you  do  not 
know  better  than  I  do  by  far;  but  I  think  Jesus 
encouraged  us  to  grant  absolution  upon  his  condi- 
tions, so  strangely  generous,  so  almost  incredibly 
merciful.  I  beg  you  to  approach  him  boldly ;  not 
to  fear  to  have  him  know  everything,  not  to  doubt 
that  he  loves  you  as  truly  as  he  ever  loved,  and 
still  loves,  Mary  and  Martha  and  Lazarus,  and  all 
the  rest  who  saw  liis  face  and  heard  his  tones. 

Nov.  24,  1S68. 

My  dear  Mrs.  W., —  My  health  has  not  been  so 
good  for  many  years.  I  find  I  can  take  good  care 
of  my  parish,  and  have  some  strength  left  for  outside 


Life  and  Letters.  89 

work,  including  some  assistance  given  to  Brother 
Bush,  every  week,  at  the  Register  office.  I  make  up 
the  "  Spirit  of  the  Press,"  and  write  the  short  edi- 
torial paragraphs. 

March  12,  1S69. 

I  hope  you  are  right  in  your  estimate  of  my 
preaching.  Once  in  a  great  while  I  feel  half-per- 
suaded that  it  is  so  myself.  But  few  can  imagine 
with  what  a  sense  of  unfitness  for  the  pulpit  I  have 
had  to  struggle,  for  nearly  eighteen  years.  It  is  not 
always  so,  of  course^  Some  Sundays  I  feel  sure  that 
I  have  the  right  word,  and  that  I  shall  be  helped  to 
utter  it ;  but,  at  other  times,  a  very  stubborn  doubt 
thrusts  itself  in  my  way.  Still,  past  deliverances 
ought  to  make  me  hopeful  of  future  ones. 

Certainly  I  cannot  complain  of  a  want  of  appre- 
ciation, far  beyond  my  deserts,  outside  of  my  parish 
as  well  as  in  it. 

Catskill  Mountain  House,  Sept.  13,  1S69. 

Dear  Edgar, — I  hope  I  shall  get  a  letter  from 
your  mamma  to-night,  and  that  it  will  tell  me  you 
are  all  well.  I  am  quite  well  myself.  I  eat  two 
chickens  every  day,  and  when  I  get  home  I  may 
crow  instead  of  speaking  to  you. 

Grant  House,  Sept.  19. 

To-morrow  is  your  birthday,*  and  I  am  sorry  I 
cannot  spend  it  with  you.  This  is  my  last  Sunday 
away  from  home ;  and  I  shall  be  all  ready  to  return 
when  the  time  comes,  for  I  want  to  see  you  all 
very  much. 

•Aged  six  years. 


90  Thomas  J.  Mumford. 

After  keeping  cool  upon  the  mountain,  it  seems 
very  hot  down  here.  This  morning  I  walked  to  the 
village,  and  went  to  church.  The  walk  back  was 
warm  and  dusty,  but  the  mountains  were  right  be- 
fore me,  r.nd  they  were  so  beautiful  that  I  forgot 
everything  else. 

I  suppose  you  will  have  a  great  deal  to  tell  me 
about  the  storm  when  I  get  home.  I  hope  you  are 
going  to  school.  I  went  as  soon  as  I  was  five  years 
old,  and  had  to  be  taken  on  horseback  in  front  of 
a  colored  man  named  Romeo,  who  was  my  father's 
slave.     Give  kisses  to  mamma  and  grandma. 

Your  loving  father. 

April  6,  1S70. 

Dear  Father  May, —  If  I  had  charge  of  \h.Q  Register, 
I  should  print  your  excellent  note,  so  far  as  relates 
to  the  threatened  division.  It  is  my  hope  and  belief 
that  not  more  than  a  tenth  of  us  will  go  off  into 
Free  Religion,  and  not  more  than  another  tenth 
into  Evangelicalism,  if  our  leaders  are  wise  and 
broad  like  James  F.  Clarke. 

After  visiting  his  favorite  spot  in  the  Milton  Cemetery, 
where  "  under  the  pines "  his  body  now  rests,  he  wrote  to 
his  friend  Mrs.  W., — 

Sept.  28,  1S70. 

The  sacred  place  was  reached  while  there  was 
plenty  of  light  to  see  the  decorations.  I  could  have 
found  the  spot  in  the  dark,  guided  by  the  fragrance 
of  the  flowers.  I  think  that  next  to  the  thought  that 
M.'s  body  lies  there,  I  like  that  vicinity  because  you 


Life  and  Letters.  91 

seem  to  pass  through  the  dark  valley   to  the  light 
and  warmth  of  the  hill  beyond. 

At  the  date  of  Mr.  Mumford's  settlement  in  Dorchester,  the 
war  had  not  ended.  Instant  in  season  and  out  of  season,  his 
humble  word  was  spoken  for  the  soldier  and  the  cause  he  rep- 
resented. He  encouraged  the  hands  of  faithful  women  who 
were  busy  feeding  and  clothing  the  sick  and  wounded ;  and 
when  Abraham  Lincoln,  in  the  single-sightedness  of  his  vision 
of  truth  and  right,  spoke  the  immortal  words  which  broke  the 
shackles  of  the  slave,  he  gave  of  his  zeal  and  his  resources  to 
the  cause  of  freedom  and  the  education  of  the  people  so  long 
bound  in  helpless  ignorance.  The  warmth  and  breadth  of  his 
sympathies  made  him  the  friend  of  that  grand  army  of  soldiers 
who  came  home  from  the  battle-field  to  live  once  more  with 
kindred  in  renewed  bonds  of  love,  and  that  other  army  who  in 
the  spirit  of  heroic  sacrifice  had  marched  to  the  undiscovered 
country. 

Occasionally  short  articles  and  letters  of  his  appeared  in  the 
Inquirer  and  Register.  About  this  time  he  also  prepared  a 
series  of  articles  for  the  Monthly  yournat,  which,  the  Assistant 
Secretary  of  the  American  Unitarian  Association  was  eager  to 
convert  into  a  literary  as  well  as  a  news  journal.  With  James 
Freeman  Clarke,  and  a  few  others,  he  helped  to  brighten  its 
sunset  glow,  and  prove  to  the  denomination  that  such  a  Journal 
could  be  made  a  welcome  magazine  of  valuable  reading  matter, 
as  well  as  of  statistics.  Here  appeared  "Stray  Hints  to  Par- 
ishes," "  Sunday-Schools  Again,"  "  What  shall  we  do  with 
our  Second  Service?"  "The  Minister  we  do  not  Want," 
"Fruit  in  Old  Age,"  "The  Southern  Need  of  Dr.  Noyes," 
"  Tlie  Episcopal  Church,"  and  the  serial  called  "  The  Journal 
of  a  Candidate,"  which  he  was  often  urged  to  publish  as  a  book. 

The  brilliancy  and  wit  of  his  pen  attracted  some  notice.  He 
afterwards  wrote  "Funereal  Follies,"  for  Old  and  Neiv. 

In  the  latter  part  of  the  year  1865,  the  Sunday  School  Society 
had  become  almost  a  forlorn  hope,  and  the  little  Gazette  w.is  at 
death's  door.     He  was  urged,  if  possib'e,  to  breathe  into  both 


92  Thomas  J.  Muuiford. 

the  breath  of  life.  By  first  setting  the  example  of  generosity 
and  devotion,  and  then  calling  upon  others  to  help  him,  he  put 
the  Society  once  more  on  its  financial  feet.  Receiving  as  a  min- 
ister a  salary  inadequate  to  the  support  of  his  family,  he  could 
not  give  a  bank  check  for  a  thousand  dollars.  Its  equivalent 
he  gave  in  his  services  for  one  year,  making  the  Gazette  what 
it  had  never  been  before,  and  leaving  in  the  treasury  a  larger 
balance  with  which  to  begin  the  next  year's  work.  But,  above 
all,  he  restored  the  Society  to  the  confidence  of  the  people,  and 
awakened  a  wider  interest  in  it. 

His  relations  with  churches  of  differing  faiths  about  him 
were  warm  and  fraternal.  No  deeper  mark  of  affection  and 
respect  could  have  been  paid  to  him  than  was  given  when  he 
was  asked  to  offer  the  consecrating  prayer  at  the  laying  of  the 
corner-stone  of  the  new  Methodist  church  in  his  neighborhood. 
As  an  additional  mark  of  respect,  a  copy  of  the  paper  he  edited 
was  placed  beneath  the  stone.  With  bishops  and  elders  he 
stood  as  a  recognized  brother  in  Christ.  It  was  one  of  the  joys 
of  his  heart  that  he  was  so  beloved. 

The  interest  which  he  took  in  the  young  preachers,  who 
came  to  him  by  the  eternal  law  in  which  sympathy  begets  sym- 
pathy, led  him  to  the  measures  which  resulted  in  the  formation 
of  the  Theological  Club, —  an  institution  which  still  exists,  and 
which  has  been  valuable  for  exactly  the  purposes  for  which  he 
suggested  it. 

He  felt  that  the  young  ministers  of  the  Unitarian  Church  had 
no  simple  way  of  meeting  familiarly  with  their  older  brethren, 
and  that  there  was  also,  in  many  instances,  none  of  that  stim- 
ulus for  theological  study  which  is  given  when  men  meet 
easily  together,  to  compare  their  views  and  their  studies. 
Where  there  happened  to  be  a  ministerial  association  which 
kept  up  any  theological  work,  this  last  difficulty  was  met;  but 
a  good  many  of  the  younger  men  belonged  to  no  such  asso- 
ciation, and  he  was  afraid  that  some  of  them  felt  "left  out  in 
the  cold."  This  led  him  to  propose  a  club,  to  be  open  to  the 
older  and  the  younger  men  alike,  with  the  simple  purpose  of 
conversation   on   theological    subjects   of    interest, —  with   the 


Life  and  Letters.  93 

understanding  that  it  should  always  elect  young  ministers,  if 
it  could  be  made  out  that  they  wanted  to  study. 

The  proposal  was  cordially  met  by  several  of  the  settled 
ministers  in  and  near  Boston  to  whom  he  submitted  it.  From 
it  the  "Theological  Club"  grew;  and  all  the  members  of  that 
Club  are  grateful  to  him  as  its  founder.  It  is  specially  interest- 
ing that  he  should  have  undertaken  its  formation,  for  he,  of 
all  men  in  our  ministry,  did  not  need  it.  He  was  never  in  want 
of  sympathetic  professional  associations  ;  but  he  saw  the  need 
for  others,  and  this  was  enough  to  start  him  on  the  plan. 

There  is  something  pleasing  in  his  own  modesty  about  his 
membership  of  this  Club,  when  he  was  notified  of  its  first 
meeting.     He  writes:  — 

Milton,  Dec.  29,  1868. 
Dear  LLale, —  I  hope  you  will  think  favorably  of 
my  suggestion  about  giving  the  young  ministers  of 
this  region  a  chance  to  meet  you  and  each  other  in 
a  social  way.  ...  I  think  there  might  be  a  very  good 
time.  I  do  not  propose  anything  formal  or  frequent, 
nor  do  I  think  you  should  burden  yourself  with  any 
thought  of  material  "refreshments."  I  only  know 
that  these  men  have  few  opportunities  to  meet  each 
other  in  private,  and  all  of  them  will  be  grateful  for 
the  slightest  manifestation  of  your  interest  and  sym- 
pathy. There  are  very  few  of  the  Boston  ministers 
who  seem  to  know  anything  or  to  care  anything 
about  their  younger  brethren.  I  am  not  sure  that 
my  plan  would  result  in  anything  at  all  satisfactory, 
but  the  men  would  appreciate  such  an  invitation, 
even  if  they  could  not  conveniently  come. 
Yours  most  cordially, 

T.    J.    MUMFORD. 


94  Thomas  J.  Mumford. 

P.  S. —  I  was  quite  disinterested  in  proposing  what 
I  thought  would  be  a  good  thing  for  our  younger 
men.  It  did  not  occur  to  me  that  I  was  to  be 
counted  in ;  but  I  will  go  to  Mr.  Clarke's,  as  you 
kindly  suggest. 

The  fiftieth  anniversary  of  the  publication  of  the  Christian 
Register  \va.s  held  April  20,  1871.  Mr.  Mumford  had  been  for 
nearly  three  years  the  assistant  editor.  At  the  dinner  given  to 
the  friends  of  the  paper,  Mr.  Haskell,  the  editor  of  the  Tran- 
script, paid  a  marked  compliment  to  his  ability,  in  the  following 
words :  "  I  should  not  do  justice  to  my  own  feelings  on  this 
occasion  were  I  to  keep  7nujn  in  regard  to  our  Friend  Mum- 
ford, of  the  Register.  He  has  introduced  a  feature  which  the 
best  and  most  prosperous  papers  are  copying  all  over  the  coun- 
try. I  never  read  one  of  those  columns  of  '  Brevities  '  that  I 
do  not  think  of  what  the  California  miner  said  of  our  dear 
friend,  Starr  King.  He  came  down  from  the  mines,  and  went 
to  the  crowded  church,  stood  up  in  the  entry  and  heard  the 
sermon,  not  knowing  who  the  preacher  was,  and  as  he  turned 
he  said,  '  That  man  takes  a  trick  every  time.'  So  our  Friend 
Mumford  makes  a  point  every  time.  I  think  that  column  com- 
bines the  most  popular  element  and  the  best  taste ;  and  the 
man  who  writes  those  paragraphs, —  his  inkstand  is  worth  a 
mine  of  gold  to  any  organization." 

Rev.  Nathaniel  Hall,  of  Dorchester,  the  loved  and  revered 
friend  of  Mr.  Mumford,  once  wrote  to  him:  "You  are  a  fort- 
unate man  to  hold  such  a  pen,  with  such  a  mind  and  heart 
behind  it." 

We  copy  the  following  letter,  written  by  one  who,  like  Mr. 
Haskell  and  Mr.  Hall,  has  passed  on  to  life  in  a  higher  sphere : 

Rooms  of  the  American  Unitarian  Association, 
42  Chauncy  Street,  April  17,  1871. 

My  dear  Mr.  Mumford, —  I  know  that  you  dislike 
compliments,  and  perhaps  to  your  face  I  should  not 


Life  and  Letters.  95 

venture  to  say  what,  even  now,  I  shall  put  as  moder- 
ately as  I  can. 

But  the  occasion  of  the  anniversary  of  the  Regis- 
ter makes  it  appropriate  that  we  should  think  about 
the  paper,  and,  if  we  have  any  feeling  about  it,  that 
we  should  give  it  expression. 

And,  as  I  have  been  recalling  the  course  and 
management  of  the  Register  the  last  year  or  two, 
I  recognize  so  gratefully  what  you  have  done  that  I 
cannot  help  writing  to  thank  you  for  it  with  all  my 
heart.  I  have  a  double  reason :  first,  because  of  your 
brave  and  strong  and  effective  advocacy  of  the  right 
cause ;  and  second,  because  of  your  more  than  kind 
words  and  action  in  reference  to  me.  I  have  never 
said  anything  about  this,  because  I  never  knew  ex- 
actly how  to ;  but  you  may  be  sure  I  have  felt  it, 
and  remember  it  with  gratitude. 

I  do  often  wish  that  your  articles  were  in  larger 
type,  especially  such  admirable  ones  as  that  in  yes- 
terday's paper  about  Mr.  Burleigh  and  the  New  York 
Conference,  and  others  just  as  good  in  every  week's 
issue  ;  but  we  are  all  learning  to  get  used  to  the  type, 
and  think  only  of  the  value  of  the  thought. 

And  now,  hoping  that  your  modesty  will  forgive 
what  is,  after  all,  only  the  merest  hint  of  what  I  feel, 
I  am  ever  truly  yours, 

Charles  Lowe. 

May  I,  1S71. 
Dear  FatJier  May, —  Do  go  on  with  your  autobiog- 
raphy.    If  Joseph  and  I  outlive  you,  we  will  see  that 


g6  Thomas  J.  Mumford. 

nothing  indiscreet  is  published ;  and  therefore  you 
can  write  as  freely  as  you  please  for  your  children 
and  grandchildren.  Remember  that  if  you  do  not 
go  on  with  this  autobiography  you  will  grieve  me 
very  much,  and  disappoint  a  great  many  whom  you 
would  be  glad  to  gratify. 

Always  yours  fondly, 

T.  J.  Mumford. 

Two  months  from  the  date  of  this  last  letter,  Samuel  J.  May 
was  called  to  his  heavenly  home.  The  autobiography  was  left 
unfinished.  It  became  the  sad  pleasure  of  his  family  and  his 
nearest  friends  to  gather  up  the  memorials  of  his  life,  and  com- 
mit their  arrangement  to  him  who  was  always  his  "dear,  duti- 
ful "  or  his  "  beloved  son"  in  the  kinship  of  spirit,  as  Timothy 
was  the  spiritual  son  of  Paul.  The  work  of  planning  and  col- 
lecting was  assigned  to  Mr.  George  B.  Emerson,  Mr.  Samuel 
May,  and  Thomas  J.  Mumford.  To  the  latter,,  by  vote  of  the 
older  members  of  the  committee,  was  intrusted  the  pleasing 
task  of  editing  the  memoir.  Actual  work  upon  it  began  in  the 
fall  of  1871.     It  was  ready  for  the  press  one  year  from  this  time. 

June  27,  1S71. 

My  dear  Mrs.  W., —  I  received  the  "  North  Wind  " 
on  Saturday,  and  the  south  wind  yesterday.  For 
both  I  thank  you.  Your  good  wishes  are  balmy  and 
genial  indeed,  and  I  always  breathe  freely  and  deeply 
when  such  "spicy  gales"  are  blowing.  They  are  so 
exhilarating  that  I  feel  that  I  must  do  my  very  best 
in  and  for  the  world,  if  I  would  be  worthy  of  such 
friendship. 

This  last  birthday  has  made  mc  feel  as  never  before 
that  I  am  no  longer  the  young  man  that  I  have  in- 
sisted upon  remaining.    My  father's  hair  was  entirely 


Life  and  Letters.  97 

white  at  forty-five,  and  mine  is  fast  becoming  so.  I 
am  grateful  for  what  has  gone,  and  for  what  is 
coming, 

Oct.  26,  187 1. 

I  intend  to  tell  my  people  that  I  shall  cease  to  be 
their  pastor  on  the  2d  of  March,  eight  years  from 
the  time  of  my  settlement.  I  am  to  be  sole  editor  of 
the  Register  ^itcr  the  ist  of  January.  The  work  is 
very  attractive  to  me,  and  I  feel  surer  of  my  call 
to  it  than  I  have  ever  felt  about  preaching.  I  was 
called  to  be  a  pastor,  and  I  mean  to  retain  something 
of  this  relation  to  many  of  my  old  flocks,  especially 
to  stray  sheep  who  have  no  new  brand  on  them.  I 
have  not  been  able  to  call  on  my  people  as  much 
since  I  have  had  the  paper  to  care  for,  but  I  had  to 
piece  out  my  salary  somehow. 

One  of  Mr.  Mumford'.s  favorite  texts  was,  "  Owe  no  man  any- 
thing." Unwilling  to  be  personally  in  debt  to  any  one,  he  was 
as  reluctant  to  serve  a  parish  whose  books  were  not  clear  of  any 
such  incumbrance.  Soon  after  his  settlement  he  became  active 
in  persuading  the  people  to  provide  a  suitable  place  for  the 
Sunday-school,  and  for  the  Young  People's  Christian  Union, 
which  he  organized,  as  well  as  for  tlie  social  and  charitable 
meetings  of  the  society.  But,  discovering  a  debt  of  nearly 
a  thousand  dollars,  he  said,  "  Let  us  suspend  the  raising  of 
money  for  better  accommodations  until  the  debt  is  cancelled." 
In  answer  to  his  request,  the  amount  was  raised  on  the  spot,  and 
the  adjourned  meeting  left  the  parish  free  of  debt.  The  con- 
tribution of  money  for  a  parish  hall  went  on  at  intervals  during 
his  ministry.  At  the  time  of  his  resignation,  the  requisite 
amount  had  been  raised  and  a  plan   of  building  adopted. 

On  the  walls  of  this  hall  the  grateful  people  have  hung  the 
life-size  crayon*  of  their  beloved  pastor. 

•See  frontispiece. 


X. 

EDITORIAL  LIFE. 

Letters  of  Welcome.  —  Completion  of  the  May  Memorial.  — 
Its  Reception.  —  Mr.  Mumford's  Relatiofi  to  the  Fi'ee 
Religionists.  —  His  Catholicity  of  Spirit. — Death  of  his 
Sister.  —  Last  Letters  to  his  Son. 

The  year  1872  opened  with  bright  prospects.  While  the 
heart  of  the  minister  turned  back  with  fond  memories  to  the 
flock  he  had  watched  over  for  eight  years,  he  was  looking  for- 
ward to  the  satisfactions  which  the  editorial  life  had  ever 
offered  him,  and  to  the  carrying  out  of  the  long-cherished  wish 
of  his  heart,  the  preparation  of  the  Life  of  his  dear  friend, 
Samuel  J.  May.  So  the  year  found  him  busy,  as  well  as  full 
of  hope. 

The  invitation  to  become  editor  of  The  Christian  Register 
was  received  October  25,  1871.  His  duties  were  to  begin  with 
the  new  year.  The  ist  of  December  his  letter  of  resignation 
was  read  to  his  parish  by  his  friend  and  neighbor.  Rev.  PVancis 
T.  Washburn.  The  announcement  fell  like  a  thunderbolt  on 
the  ears  of  his  people.  He  had  not  told  them  of  his  in- 
tentions,—  not  even  those  who  were  in  many  respects  his 
intimate  friends, —  because  he  thought  that  in  his  relations  to 
them  as  pastor  all  his  people  had  equal  claims  upon  his  con- 
fidence. According  to  the  conditions  of  settlement  he  was 
to  give  three  months'  notice  to  his  parish  of  any  intention  to 
dissolve  his  official  relations  with  them ;  so  he  remained  their 
pastor  till  March,  taking  entire  charge  of  the  paper,  and  con- 
tinuing work  upon  the  May  Memoir, 

The  perfect  satisfaction  that  he  found  in  his  editorial  work, 
in  spite  of  its  heavy  responsibilities  and  its  many  trying  and 
harassing  cares,  mny  be  known  from  his  own  testimony:  "I 


Life  and  Letters.  99 

have  lived  to  be  forty-five  years  old  without  ever  finding  out 
what  I  was  made  for  till  now."  This  satisfaction  was  quite  as 
evident  to  his  friends  and  readers  as  to  himself.  It  revealed 
itself  in  his  work,  which  was  seen  to  be  that  of  a  lover,  not 
that  of  a  drudge.  His  position  as  assistant  editor  had  already 
given  the  readers  of  the  Register  a  taste  of  his  quality,  and  the 
satisfaction  with  which  his  appointment  as  editor-in-chief  was 
received  may  be  learned  from  the  following  extracts  from  a 
few  of  the  many  letters  he  received :  — 

Boston,  Dec.  13,  1871. 

Dear  Mmnford, —  I  am  glad  of  your  being  editor 
of  the  Register,  and  applaud  your  resignation  of  your 
parish  to  devote  yourself  to  a  more  important  task. 

I  delight  in  the  prospect  which  your  intellectual, 
moral,  spiritual,  and  Christian  qualifications  for  this 
particular  function  open. 

Beware  of  the  universal  temptations  to  hyper- 
criticism,  combativeness,  conceit,  smartness,  and 
sardonic  contempt  of  personal  or  doctrinal  foes,  and 
of  the  proud  irresponsibleness  of  a  public  pen  ;  and 
believe  you  have  a  friend  and  well-wisher  and  large 
hoper  for  you  in  Yours,  C.  A.  B.artol. 

P.  S.  —  Don't  (eschewing  vitriol)  leave  out  the 
spice.  c.  A.  B. 

San  Jose,  Cal.,  Jan.  12,  1871. 

Dear  Man  and  Brother, —  I  do  think  there  are  few 
brighter  papers  in  the  land  than  the  Register ;  and 
'tis  the  only  paper  which  I  much  miss,  if  it  doesn't 
come  when  it  ought.  Yon  I  don't  miss,  feeling  that 
I  have  you  in  happy  earnesi. 

Salute  the  household,  and  may  your  hearts  all  be 
full  of  quiet  songs !  Serenely,  C.  G.  Ames. 


100  Thomas  J.  Aliimford. 

Office  of  The  Index,  Toledo,  Ohio,  April  20,  1872. 

My  dear  Mr.  Miimford, —  Although  it  is  late 
Saturday  night,  I  must  send  a  hurried  line  to  thank 
you  for  the  noble  and  generous  spirit  of  your  late 
articles. 

I  want  just  to  take  your  hand  for  a  hearty  shake, 
because  I  fear  you  were  wounded  by  my  silence 
regarding  the  beautiful  letter  you  sent  me  a  few 
months  ago.  I  felt  it  deeply,  however,  and  feel 
troubled  because  I  have  left  it  so  long  unanswered. 

While  we  must   still   "exchange  shots,"  etc.,  for 
our  causes,  let   us   ever  be  the  sincere  friends   we 
are   to-day.     "Squib"  away  —  I  shall,  too;   but  no 
malice  shall  poison  the  arrow's  point. 
Yours  unreservedly, 

Francis  E.  Abbot. 

The  following  letter  is  from  Mr.  Mumford  to  his  friend 
Mrs.  S.:  — 

Oct.  20,  1872. 

My  editorial  duties  require  nearly  all  my  time ; 
and  of  late  all  available  leisure  has  been  needed  for 
the  May  Memoir.  This  is  now  nearly  done,  and  I 
hope  that  nothing  but  the  proof-reading  will  remain. 

If  it  were  not  for  a  fresh  cold,  1  should  come  over, 

this   evening,  to   tell  you  about  our  interview  with 

George  MacDonald.     Mrs.  W.  looked  unusually  well 

and  happy,  and  of  course  she  made  her  little  party 

a  most  delightful  one. 

Dec.  24,  1872. 

My  dear  Mrs.  IV., —  My  book  has  gone  to  the 
press,  after  costing  me  more  wear  and  tear  of  feel- 


J^ifc  and  Letters.  lOl 

ing  on  account  of  the  sensibilities  of  others  than 
actual  work.  By  and  by,  I  hope  you  will  glance  at 
the  story  of  my  Father  May's  life. 

The  publication  of  the  May  Memoir  brought  forth,  among 
others,  the  letters  from  which  we  make  the  following  extracts  :  — 

April  30,  1873. 

Rev.  Mk.  Mumford: 

My  dear  Sh, —  I  have  your  highly  esteemed  note 
of  the  25th  instant.  I  did  not  before  know  that  you 
were  born  in  .South  Carolina,  and  were  the  son  of  a 
slave-holder.  You  certainly  had  a  poor  start  in  aboli- 
tionism. "All's  well  that  ends  well."  You  have 
come  out  right,  and  it  gives  me  pleasure  to  know 
that  one  of  my  anti-slavery  speeches  is  entitled  to  a 
little  of  the  credit  of  it. 

I  hope  your  life  of  our  dear  May  sells  well.  The 
charm  of  your  book  is,  that  it  allows  its  dear  subject 
to  speak  for  himself,  and  does  not  bury  him  in  the 
words  of  its   author. 

I  am  an   old   man   (seventy-six),  but   I  should  be 

right  glad  to  receive  a  visit  from  you,  should  you 

ever  be  journeying  this  way.     I  hope  I  may  yet  have 

the  pleasure  of  taking  you  by  the  hand.     I  value  you 

all  the   more,  because  you  were  the  friend   of    my 

dear  May. 

Cordially  yours,  Gerrit  Smith. 

Bridport,  Eng.,  Aug.  i,  1S73. 
Dear  Sir,  —  I   have  been  reading  the  memoir  of 
S.    J.    May   with   deep    interest.      Of   all    the   anti- 
slavery    advocates,    he    was    the    one    with    whose 
spirit  I  felt  the  greatest  sympathy  ;  and  I  feel  like 


102  Thomas  J.  Mmnford. 

Mr.  Whittier,   who   said    that  every  one  loved  him 
at  first  sight. 

I  have  reviewed  your  Memoir  in  the  Inquirer, 
where  it  will  appear,  I  suppose,  to-morrow.  I  have 
also  sent  an  article  to  the  Herald.  Last  Sunday 
week,  I  made  him  the  subject  of  a  biographical  dis- 
course from  the  pulpit. 

You  will  not  be  surprised,  therefore,  that  I  wish 
the  book  to  be  more  widely  diffused  in  this  country. 
Is  the  book  stereotyped }  If  so,  might  it  not  be 
well  to  send  over  five  hundred  copies  to  England,  in 
sheets,  at  a  lower  price  than  it  could  be  reprinted 
for  here  .''     I  know  no  book  better  worth  reprinting. 

Mr.  May,  perhaps,  did  as  much  good  as  Dr. 
Channing;  but  his  works  were  those  which  chiefly 
influenced  his  own  countrymen,  who  were  the  eye- 
witnesses of  his  ministry.     Believe  me. 

Yours  faithfully,  R.   L.  Carpenter. 

Tribune  Office,  New  York,  Dec.  ii,  187 1. 

My  dear  Friend, —  I  am  glad  that  the  work  of 
writing  the  life  of  our  beloved  friend  has  fallen,  in 
part,  to  your  hands ;  for  I  know  how  deep  was  your 
reverence  for  him,  and  how  well  you  arc  qualified  to 
tell  what  you  know. 

I,  too,  remember  the  days  when  we  first  met  under 
the  roof  of  Thomas  and  Mary  Anne  M'Clintock,  at 
Waterlcjo.  The  interest  in  you,  awakened  then,  has 
continued  without  abatement  to  this  day,  and  I  have 
rejoiced  in  view  of  your  work  and  your  success 
therein.  Yours  truly,  Oliver  Johnson. 


Life  and  Letters.  1 03 

A  few  years  later,  the  same  warm  friend  wrote  Mr.  Mumforcl 
tlie  following  frank  and  generous  lines  in  regard  to  his  conduct 
of  the  Register  :  — 

Office  Christian  Union,  New  York,  Feb.  24,  1874. 
Dear  old  Friend, —  I  owe  you  thanks  for  your  kind 
allusion  in  the  Register  to  my  "Anti-Slavery  Remin- 
iscences," and  to  myself  personally.  You  make  the 
Register  a  very  bright  paper,  and  I.  congratulate  you 
most  heartily  upon  your  success.  I  do  not  always 
relish  your  sarcasm,  and  I  sometimes  think  you  are 
not  quite  fair  in  your  jibes  at  the  Free  Religionists: 
but  it  would  be  very  foolish  in  you  to  try  to  please 
me  in  all  things.  To  make  a  good  paper,  you  must 
be  independent. 

Yours  affectionately, 

Oliver  Johnson. 

Perhaps  the  best  commentary  on  these  candid  and  good- 
natured  criticisms  maybe  found  in  the  two  letters  of  Mr.  Mum- 
ford  which  follow.  Though  not  addressed  to  Mr.  Jolinson, 
they  were  written  to  a  brother  minister,  also  a  member  of 
the  Free  Religious  Association,  for  whom,  as  will  be  seen,  he 
entertained  a  strong  and  abiding  friendship.  They  show  that, 
if  his  pen  sometimes  erred,  his  heart  was  not  at  fault.  His 
convictions  were  strong,  but  his  sympathies  were  warm  and 
broad;  and  no  one  was  more  prompt  to  admit  an  error  of  his 
own,  or  to  recognize  and  applaud  the  merit  of  an  antagonist. 

Dec.  26,  187 1. 
Dear  X.,  —  You  are  good.  If  they  ever  intrust 
the  making  up  of  the  list  of  saints  to  me,  —  I  am 
dreadfully  afraid  they  won't,  —  your  name  shall  go 
in  sure.  .  .  .  The  address  is  rather  longer  than  I 
expected,  and  on  this  account  I  shall  have  to  defer 


104  Thomas  J.  Muniford. 

it  until  my  second  number ;  but  it  shall  have  the 
place  of  honor  in  that,  and  not  one  jot  or  tittle  shall 
be  omitted.  I  have  just  read  it  with  almost  too 
much  emotion  for  a  public  place,  jumping  *up  now 
and  then,  and  insisting  that  Sister  W.,  who  keeps 
the  Register  s  books,  shall  hear  a  few  good  rings  of 
the  notes  of  life  that  are  in  it.  It  is  my  creed,  my 
statement  of  faith.  .  .  .  Y.  is  bitter.  He  writes  to 
blame  me  frankly  for  my  sharpness  in  dealing  with 
the  Free  Religionists.  They  evidently  think  it  is 
more  blessed  to  give  than  to  receive  —  criticism! 
And  I  may  tell  them  so.  My  ill-nature  and  poi- 
soned arrows  are  all  gammon.  I  love  all  these 
fellows  a  great  deal  more  than  I  do  some  of  the 
fossils  whom  I  have  criticised  just  as  freely.  .  .  . 
Yours  very  fondly, 

T.    J.    MUMFORD. 

Boston,  April  ii,  1S74. 
Dear  X,, — .  .  .  I  shall  be  heartily  glad  if  you  will 
write  an  article  from  your  old  text,  "  Sirs,  ye  are 
brethren,"  and  show,  as  frequently  as  you  please, 
that,  at  the  bottoms  of  their  hearts,  Orthodox,  Uni- 
tarians, and  Free  Religionists  are  at  peace  instead 
of  at  war.  ...  Of  course  I  have  no  prejudice  against 
freedom  or  religion  in  the  abstract ;  but  when  the 
imperfect  Register  gets  to  dealing  with  the  imperfect 
Index,  I  presume  that  an  impartial  judge  can  see  a 
plenty  of  partisanship  on  both  sides,  I  do  not  mean 
to  be  mean  and  unfair,  but  I  can  hardly  get  out  of 
the  prize-fight  without  striking;  and,  whether  A.,  F., 
etc.,  come  up  smiling  or  frowning,  they  seem  to  say. 


Life  and  Lc tiers.  105 

"  Don't  trouble  yourself  about  any  concern  for  our 
skulls,  but  look  out,  or  yours  will  get  cracked."  Of 
late  I  have  tried  hard  to  curb  my  combativencss,  and 
I  hope  there  has  been  a  little  less  of  it.  My  dear 
fellow,  when  you  have  been  stumping  for  the  Repub- 
lican party  as  it  was,  have  you  always  kept  wholly 
free  from  the  rage  of  battle  .■'  Perhaps  you  did  ;  for 
you  are  more  of  a  Quaker  than  I  am,  or  ever  will  be, 
I  fear. 

I  am  not  so  very  malignant,  however.  Having 
begun  as  a  pro-slavery  Episcopalian,  I  was  con- 
verted by  Quaker  women  of  the  most  radical  type. 
I  am  catholic  in  my  friendships,  keep  my  old  Epis- 
copal High-Church  pastor's  picture  in  my  study, 
and  if  A.  is  half  as  fond  of  me  as  I  am  of  him,  we 
cannot  quarrel. 

You  must  remember  that  it  is  not  here  as  it  is 
in  England.  There  is  no  anti-Unitarian  and  anti- 
Christian  organ  there.  Here  there  is  an  able  and 
aggressive  -  one,  and  with  it  has  come  some  inevi- 
table sparring.  I  have  never  written  a  word  in  an 
ugly  spirit ;  and  I  hope  that,  if  any  bad  blood  gets 
into  my  veins,  some  faithful  surgeon  will  bleed 
me  freely  and  promptly.  .  .  .  To  ray  api^rehension, 
the  Christian  religion,  in  its  simplicity  and  purity,  is 
free  and  broad  and  inclusive.  That  is  the  reason  I 
like  it,  and  don't  want  to  have  it  defamed  and 
abandoned.  .  .  . 

With  love  for  your  dear  self, 

T.  J.  M. 


io6  Thomas  J.  Mitmford. 

Milton,  Sept.  29,  1873. 

Dear  Mrs.  IV.,  —  This  month  is  full  of  precious 
anniversaries.  It  is  a  little  more  than  three  weeks 
since  L.  and  I  visited  the  Milton  "  God's  Acre," 
and  brought  away  the  leaves  which  I  enclose  to  you. 
It  was  a  beautiful  afternoon,  and  the  place  was  so 
lovely  that  we  felt  inclined  to  linger  for  hours. 

If   I   am   an  editor  when    I   go  to   Mrs.  's,  I 

alvvavs  feel  like  a  minister  when  I  come  away;  for 
she  knows  how  to  transform  me  by  the  renewing  of 
my  mind,  and  my  soul  too.  Well,  the  ministerial 
satisfactions  are  higher  and  deeper,  and  I  may 
return  to  them,  once  in  a  while,  to  re-form  my  char- 
acter. So  many  poor  parsons  are  about  that  I  do 
not  preach  unless  some  friend  is  sick  or  absent  from 
his  post. 

Sunday  Noon,  July,  1S74. 

Dca7'  Edgar,  —  When  I  got  home,  last  night,  the 
first  thing  I  saw  was  your  old  cap  left  on  my  study- 
table.  I  was  very  glad  indeed  to  see  it,  for  I  love 
my  boy,  with  all  his  faults ;  and  whatever  reminds  me 
of  him  is  therefore  welcome.  Still  I  should  not  love 
him  any  less  ii  he  overcame  his  carelessness,  and  I 
should  feel  easier  about  his  future.  He  may  think 
that  father  and  mother  arc  sometimes  impatient, 
but  he  will  never  find  anybody  who  is  really  more 
patient,  although  some  may  indulge  liim  more  for  a 
time,  not  caring  much  whether  he  becomes  a  good 
and  useful  man  or  not. 

If  I  was  glad  to  see  your  cap  on  the  table,  I  was 


Life  and  Letters.  10/ 

rejoiced  when  I  opened  the  barn-door  and  saw 
that  you  had  really  done  something  towards  leaving 
a  supply  of  kindling-wood.  That  looked  thoughtful 
and  kind.  To  be  sure,  I  may  have  to  add  to  the 
pile ;  for,  in  your  generous  desire  that  I  shall  not 
suffer  in  my  health  from  lack  of  exercise,  you  did 
•not  leave  an  excessive  supply;  but  it  will  be  much 
pleasanter  to  add  than  it  would  have  been  to  find 
nothing  to  add  to. 

I  hope  you  aro  having  a  delightful  day  at  the  sea- 
shore, and  tint  you  do  all  you  can  to  make  your 
mother  happy.  The  weather  is  about  right,  and  if 
all  is  peaceful  within,  you  can  hardly  fail  to  be 
happy. 

Give  your  mother  a  kiss  for  me,  and  ask  her  to 
give  you  one  on  my  account. 

Philadelphi.a.,  May  12,  1875. 
Dear  Edgar, —  Your  mother  is  on  her  way  to  you. 
The  "Sa.xon"  started  just  before  eleven  o'clock,  and 
we  waved  our  handkerchiefs  to  each  other  as  long  as 
they  could  be  seen.  She  has  a  delightful  room,  and 
will  receive  every  attention.  I  hope  she  will  get  to 
Boston  safely.  The  wind  is  blowing  hard,  but  it 
may  not  be  very  rough  at  sea.  I  hope  you  are  well 
and  good  and  happy.  Your  mother  said  a  great 
many  fond  things  of  you  before  the  boat  started. 
God  bless  you,  darling ! 

Milton,  May  i,  1S76. 

Dear  X., —  I  got  up  early  this  morning,  to  read 
the   proof   of    the  first   sixty  pages  of   a  volume  of 


io8    '  Thomas  J.  Miimford. 

sermons  and  essays  by  F.  T.  Washburn.  They  are 
as  clear,  bright,  pure,  and  sweet  as  the  morning 
itself.  I  should  be  tempted  to  think  that  heaven 
grieved  and  earth  lost  much  by  his  removal,  if  I  did 
not  hope  that  these  printed  words  will  reach  and 
help  many  human  hearts.  Of  course  there  will  not 
be  much  chance  to  sell  such  a  book,  but  the  quality 
of  the  influence  will  be  rich  and  high.  .  .  . 

Ever  yours,  T.  J.  Mumford. 

Boston,  Ai^ril  7,  1S77. 
Dear  X., —  If  you  knew  how  much  good  your  letter 
did  me,  you  would  be  glad  you  wrote  it,  even  if  it 
did  cost  an  effort  in  the  lassitude  of  spring,  after  the 
hard  work  of  winter.  All  my  thoughts  of  you  are 
refreshing  and  inspiring,  and  hearing  from  you  is 
one  of  my  chief  pleasures.  You  are  one  of  the  men 
that  I  trust  absolutely ;  and  I  think  I  should  do  so 
even  if  you  sometimes  felt  bound  by  your  lov.e  for 
me,  and  the  truth  and  the  right,  to  give  me  blows 
that  draw  blood  When  you  can  be  encouraging,  it 
helps  me  to  overcome  a  morbid  self-distrust  which 
has  dogged  me  through  life,  sometimes  nearly 
ruining  me.  ...  I  winced  a  little,  to  have  it  known 
that  good  M.  G.  thought  I  deserved  a  public  whip- 
ping for  my  sins ;  but,  after  all,  she  has  not  made 
me  see  that  what  I  said  of  Mr.  P.  is  not  substan- 
tially true.  An  old  abolitionist  is  rather  better 
than  ordinary  men,  if  he  behaves  himself ;  but,  if 
he  doesn't,  he  is  amenable  to  the  laws  of  truth  and 
decency,  and  there  is  not  much  harm  in  telling  him 


Life  and  Letters.  1 09 

so  with  some  of  his  own  plainness  of  speech.  ...  I 
hope  X.  and  Y.  will  get  over  their  bad  attack  of 
"statement  of  belief"  on  the  brain.  The  spiritual 
leadership  of  Jesus,  and  the  promotion  of  pure 
Christianity,  are  basis  enough  for  me.  Agitation 
for  anything  more  will  be  mischievous  and  abor- 
tive. .  ,  .  Yours  heartily, 

T.    J.    MUMFORD. 

Though  Mr.  Mumford  gave  up  his  parish,  he  never  ceased 
to  be  a  minister.  He  was  born  to  help  and  to  console.  He 
made  haste  to  serve  brother  ministers  in  their  need.  He  was 
often  in  the  house  of  mourning,  investing  the  solemn  rites  of 
burial  with  the  illuminating  faith  and  hope  of  the  Dayspring 
from  on  high.  He  was  unwearied  in  bearing  messages  of  good 
cheer,  of  sympathy,  of  comfort,  and  of  counsel.  Taking  little 
or  no  rest  himself,  he  was  untiring  in  serving  others.  Into  the 
last  summer  of  his  life  were  crowded  such  labors  of  love. 
While  in  the  midst  of  a  remonstrance  from  his  friend  and 
co-worker  at  the  office,  and  a  half-uttered  promise  to  refuse 
all  solicitations  to  conduct  funeral  services  in  the  absence  of 
pastors,  he  was  called  upon  to  go  to  a  distant  city  for  this  pur- 
pose. Turning  to  his  friend,  he  said,  "You  must  let  me  go 
this  time.  This  is  a  particular  service  which  I  cannot  refuse. 
I  promise  to  do  better  in  future."  It  was  his  last  service  of 
love  for  the  living  in  memory  of  the  dead.  One  week  later  the 
floral  cross  lay  upon  his  own  casket. 

In  addition  to  the  letters  already  introduced  from  Mr.  Mum 
ford  to  his  dear  friend,  Mrs.  A.  D.  T.  Whitney,  we  copy  from 
one  or  two  written  to  her  during  the  last  summer  of  his  life  :  — 

Lan'CASTER,  N.H.,  July  3,  1877. 

Dear  Mrs.  JV., —  I  am  well  rested,  and  I  long  for 
my  regular  work,  which  is  a  large  part  of  my  hap- 


1 1  o  Thomas  J.  Miimford. 

piness.  Pleasant  occupation  that  goes  "  with  the 
grain,"  and  not  too  much  of  it,  is  a  blessed  boon 
for  a  man  or  a  woman. 

Already  we  had  many  prized  tokens  of  your  friend- 
ship, which  we  never  see  without  lively  pleasure ;  and 
such  symbols  help  me  when  I  am  sad,  by  at  once 
reproving  and  cheering  a  self-distrustful  fellow  who 
needs  indirect  assurances  that  he  is  not  "a  cumberer 
of  the  ground."  I  am  very  grateful  for  my  friend- 
ships, only  wishing  that  I  could  give  as  much  as  I 
get  for  them. 

I  am  glacj  you  find  so  many  lovers  of  your  brain 
children  in  the  West,  although  I  knew  it  would  be 
so.  The  West  is  full  of  bright  people,  who  have  a 
hearty  welcome  for  every  good  thing,  and  the  sec- 
tional jealousies,  both  ways,  are  pitiable.  I  am  often 
asked,  "  Which  do  you  like  best.  East  or  West .-' " 
and  my  answer  is  uniformly  sincere,  if  evasive : 
"One  star  differeth  from  another  star  in  glory." 

Detroit,  July  19,  1877. 

Dear  Mrs.  W., —  My  sister  Annie  died  on  Monday, 
and  I  came  to  the  funeral  service.  The  burial  took 
place  yesterday,  not  long  before  sunset.  She  was 
a  person  of  great  intelligence  and  refinement,  who 
loved  much  and  was  much  beloved.  Thirty  years 
of  suffering  and  privation  did  not  spoil  her  sweet- 
ness or  shake  her  faith. 

I  was  at  the  Milton  cemetery,  last  Friday,  with 
Lizzie  and  Mr.  T.,  to  look  at  our  half-lot,  which  is 


Life  and  Letters.  Ill 

only  about  fifty  feet  from  yours.  It  was  very  beau- 
tiful there.  Your  lot  never  seemed  more  lovely.  I 
read  the  mottoes  on  the  stone  at  Minnie's  grave, 
although  I  know  them  "  by  heart "  indeed. 

Peterp.oro,  N.H.,  Sunday  Morning,  Aug.  12,  1877. 

Dear  Mrs.  IV., —  I  am  staying  with  the  Morisons, 
at  George's  farm-house,  about  three  miles  from  the 
village,  and  overlooking  most  of  the  region  round 
about,  excepting  old  Monadnock  and  a  few  other 
mountains,  to  which  we  look  up  reverently.  I  am 
to  preach  here  to-day,  as  a  "labor  of  love"  to  the 
parish, —  the  minister  being  off  on  his  vacation. 
Nature  preaches  so  eloquently  now  that  I  almost 
wonder  at  their  caring  to  submit  to  the  intrusion  of 
human  voices  upon  their  attention. 

We  like  our  new  house  more  and  more.  It  is  at 
least  as  pleasant  and  convenient  as  persons  in  our 
circumstances  can  reasonably  ask  for,  and  I  hope 
Vv^e  shall  be  very  happy  in  it.  It  was  always  pleasant 
at  the  old  place,  but  I  am  thoroughly  converted  to 
the  new  one.  Edgar  is  nearly  as  large  as  I  am  now, 
and  carries  his  musket  manfully  in  the  Highland 
Battalion.     We  are  great  friends,  as  we  ought  to  be. 

To  his  son,  who  was  spending  the  week  in  East  Gloucester, 
he  wrote :  — 

Boston,  Wednesday,  Aug.  22,  1S77. 

Dear  Edgar, —  Your  card  to  your  mother  has  just 
come,  although  it  was  written  on  Sunday  ! 

Slow  mails,  or  males,  periiaps,  aged  nearly  fifteen  J 


112  TJiovias  J.  Miimford. 

I  was  at  Cohasset,  Sunday,  where  I  could  see  Cape 
Ann  through  a  glass ;  but  I  could  not  distinguish 
Mr.  R.'s  house  nor  any  of  its  inmates. 

Aug.  23. 

Probably  you  will  come  back  to-morrow  or  Sat- 
urday. It  will  be  hard  to  leave  the  sea-shore  and 
pleasant  friends,  but  we  all  have  to  do  such  things 
now  and  then.  It  must  have  been  beautiful  on  the 
rocks,  last  evening. 

Aug.  25. 

I  have  just  telegraphed  that  you  may  stay  until 
the  Monday  boat.  We  shall  be  very  glad  to  have 
you  at  home  again.  It  will  be  sixteen  years;  Monday, 
since  your  mother  and  I  were  married,  and  you  ought 
to  be  willing  to  spend  a  part  of  the  day  with  us.  I 
have  no  doubt  that  you  are,  and  that  you  will  come 
back  "like  a  man." 

Your  affectionate  father, 

T.  J.  MUMFORD. 


XI. 


LAST  HOURS. 

Sunday  morning,  Aug.  26,  found  him  early  sitting  on  the 
piazza,  enjoying  the  freshness  of  the  hour  and  the  gradual 
lighting  up  of  the  western  hills.  For  the  first  time  for  many 
Sundays  he  did  not  attend  public  worship,  but  threw  himself 
on  the  lounge  for  a  morning  nap,  having  as  yet  made  no  allu- 
sion to  any  pain.  Several  friends  came  to  lunch,  and  some 
later  to  dine,  so  that  the  house  was  filled  with  guests  till 
evening.  Always  of  very  genial  manner,  his  hospitality  as- 
sumed a  playful  mood,  as  he  welcomed  his  friends,  and  showed 
them  ovir  the  house,  and  took  them  out  on  the  house-top, 
which  commands  a  view  of  the  surrounding  country.  At  four 
o'clock  he  asked  to  be  excused  from  table,  and  ascended  the 
.stairs  for  the  last  time.  He  was  then  suffering  considerable 
pain,  which  did  not  cease  till  death  released  him.  When,  the 
next  morning,  the  doctor  told  him  he  was  a  much  sicker  man 
than  he  had  expected  to  find,  he  said,  "If  you  will  do  all  you 
can  for  me,  doctor,  I  will  be  very  grateful  to  you."  To  all  who 
ministered  to  his  wants  he  gave  the  gracious  smile  and  the 
cordial  "  Thank  you."  He  was  never  more  considerate  of  the 
comfort  of  others  than  when  they  were  bending  over  him  to 
relieve  him,  being  as  submissive  to  their  wishes  as  a  little  child. 

His  "  boy,"  as  he  loved  to  call  him,  came  back  full  of 
vigor  and  joyousness,  to  find  his  father  on  his  bed  of  pain. 
Throwing  his  arms  around  his  neck,  he  said,  "Well,  my  dear 
boy,  I  am  glad  you've  got  home.  There  was  a  time,  last  night, 
when  I  thought  I  should  never  see  my  little  boy  again,  but 
I  am  not  suffering  so  much  now.  You  don't  know  how  I 
love  you ! " 

The  next  morning  a  consultation  of  physicians  was  held,  and 


114  Thomas  J.  Mumford. 

telegraphic  messages  were  sent  to  his  brothers  and  sister,  and 
the  friends  whom  he  designated.  He  said  to  an  attendant,  "  I 
must  be  very  ill,  if  it  is  necessary  to  call  another  physician. 
I  should  like  to  live  to  see  my  boy  grow  up." 

His  mind  was  clear,  and  his  thoughts  busy,  except  for  a  few 
hours  at  the  last. 

The  coming  campaign  and  the  coming  issue  of  his  paper 
were  discussed  by  him  in  the  intervals  of  comparative  ease, 
and  many  recent  interviews  with  friends  were  repeated,  espe- 
cially a  conversation  on  immortality  he  had  had  with  a  friend, 
the  week  before,  at  Cohasset,  where  he  last  preached. 

No  direct  reference  to  the  impending  change,  no  parting 
word,  as  such,  was  said;  for  to  the  last  there  was  hope  of 
recovery,  and  his  loved  ones  did  not  wish  to  hinder  it  by  the 
least  exciting  thought.  His  feelings  and  convictions  about 
death  and  the  immortal  life  were  so  well  known,  and  so  freely 
had  he  been  accustomed  to  talk  with  his  family  in  regard  to 
them,  that  it  would  have  seemed  like  an  intrusion  to  disturb 
the  quiet  slumber  into  which  he  had  fallen  with  any  words  of 
farewell,  or  to  arouse  him  to  the  agony  of  parting.  No  one 
could  feel  more  surely  that  in  the  midst  of  life  we  are  in  death. 

From  infancy  he  had  been  taught  by  his  mother  to  regard 
life  as  a  precious  but  passing  gift.  He  would  have  been 
pleased  to  remain  on  earth  a  little  longer,  if  it  had  been 
his  Father's  will ;  yet  he  was  ready  at  any  moment  to  go  at  his 
Father's  call. 

At  five  minutes  past  eight  o'clock,  Wednesday  morning, 
August  29,  just  as  the  train  which  was  accustomed  to  take 
him  to  town  left  the  station,  he  passed  "beyond  the  sighing 
and  the  weeping  "  into  the  "  love,  rest,  and  home  "  that  awaited 
him  on  the  other  side. 


MEMORIAL  TRIBUTES. 


MEMORIAL  TRIBUTES. 


XII. 


FUNERAL  SERVICES. 

The  announcement  of  Mr.  Mumford's  sudden  death  came 
like  a  thunderbolt  to  his  multitude  of  friends.  It  found 
many  of  them,  especially  his  clerical  brethren,  away  from 
home,  spending  their  summer  vacation  ;  yet  the  large  number 
of  ministers  and  laymen  from  near  and  far  who  hastened  to 
pay  the  last  honors  to  the  deceased  showed  how  widely  he 
was  known,  and  how  deeply  and  tenderly  he  was  loved. 

At  the  new  house  on  Alban  Street,  Dorchester,  into  which, 
with  his  family,  he  had  so  lately  moved,  and  which  promised 
them  such  an  enjoyable  home,  the  relatives  of  the  family,  the 
pall-bearers,  and  a  few  of  the  more  intimate  friends  gathered, 
at  ten  o'clock,  on  Saturday  morning,  Sept.  i.  The  services, 
conducted  by  Rev.  Rush  R.  Shippen,  were  fittingly  brief  and 
simple,  consisting  of  the  23d  Psalm,  a  prayer,  and  one  of 
Mr.  Mumford's  favorite  poems:  — 

Our  beloved  have  departed, 
While  we  tarry,  heavy-hearted, 

In  the  dreary,  empty  house. 
They  have  ended  life's  brief  story, 
They  have  reached  the  home  of  glory ; 

Over  death  victorious. 

On  we  haste,  to  home  invited,  • 

There  with  friends  to  be  united 

In  a  surer  bond  than  here. 
Meeting  soon,  and  met  forever  : 
Glorious  hope,  forsake  us  never, 

For  thy  glimmering  light  is  dear  I 


1 1 6  Thomas  J.  Mumford. 

Ah  !  the  way  is  shining  clearer, 
As  we  journey  ever  nearer 

To  the  everlasting  home. 
Comrades,  who  await  our  landing, 
Friends,  who  round  the  throne  are  standing, 

We  salute  you,  and  we  come. 

By  request  of  the  members  of  the  Third  Religious  Society, 
who  wished  to  testify  in  some  appropriate  manner  to  the  great 
love  they  bore  their  former  pastor,  public  funeral  services  were 
held  at  their  church  on  Richmond  Street.  Thither  the  casket 
was  removed,  where  it  was  placed  under  the  pulpit,  on  a  dais 
surrounded  with  ferns  and  lilies,  and  covered  with  a  wreath  of 
ivy  and  forget-me-nots.  The  pulpit  and  organ  w^ere  wreathed 
with  flowers  by  loving  friends. 

The  large  congregation  in  the  church  embraced  not  only 
many  ministers  and  laymen  well  known  to  the  religious  body 
of  which  Mr.  Mumford  was  such  a  faithful  representative,  but 
many  of  different  churches  and  faiths,  who  honored  him  for  his 
catholicity  of  spirit,  and  for  his  eminent  qualities  as  a  citizen 
and  a  man ;  and  there  were  many  there  who  had  known  him 
as  pastor  and  as  friend,  who  had  listened  often  to  the  devout 
and  earnest  words  which  fell  from  his  lips  as  he  stood  in  the 
sacred  desk,  or  who,  in  the  hour  of  bereavement,  had  known 
his  rare  power  to  counsel  and  console. 

The  solemn  funeral  march  on  the  organ  was  followed  by 
the  sweet  minor,  "  Come  unto  me,  all  ye  that  are  heavy  laden." 

Rev.  Henry  G.  Spaulding,  his  friend,  and  successor  to  the 
pastorate  of  the  church,  read  a  selection  from  the  Scriptures ; 
after  which  the  choir,  composed  of  nine  young  ladies,  some 
of  whom  had  the  tenderest  memories  of  his  pastoral  care, 
then  sang  the  following  hymn :  — 

We  will  not  weep ;  for  God  is  standing  by  us, 
And  tears  will  blind  us  to  the  blessed  sight. 

We  will  not  doubt ;  if  darkness  still  doth  try  us, 
Our  souls  have  promise  of  serenest  light. 


Life  and  Letters.  II7 

We  will  not  faint ;  if  heavy  burdens  bind  us, 
They  press  no  harder  than  our  souls  can  bear. 

The  thorniest  way  is  lying  still  behind  us; 
We  shall  be  braver  for  the  past  despair. 

Oh,  not  in  doubt  shall  be  our  journey's  ending ! 

Sin,  with  its  fears,  shall  leave  us  at  the  last ; 
All  its  best  hopes  in  glad  fulfilment  blending, 

Life  shall  be  with  us  when  the  death  is  past. 

Help  us,  O  Father!  when  the  world  is  pressing 
On  our  frail  hearts,  that  faint  without  their  friend; 

Help  us,  O  Father  I  let  thy  constant  blessing 
Strengthen  our  weakness,  till  the  joyful  end. 

Rev.  James  Freeman  Clarke,  on  the  occasion  of  Mr.  Mum- 
ford's  settlement  at  Detroit,  preached  the  ordination  sermon, 
and  had  ever  since  remained  his  close  and  warm  friend.  It 
was  fitting  that  h^  who  had  ushered  him  into  the  ministry 
should  mark  its  close  with  a  memorial  word. 

ADDRESS  OF  REV.  JAMES  FREEMAN  CLARKE,  B.C. 

The  large  number  who  have  been  brought  together, 
this  morning,  from  places  nearer  or  more  remote, 
shows  how  deeply  and  how  widely-felt  is  the  sudden, 
sad  bereavement  which  calls  us  here.  Very  many 
here,  this  morning,  feci  that  they  have  lost  a  friend 
and  a  brother  so  near  to  them,  on  whom  they  have 
been  so  dependent,  that  this  loss  can  never  be  re- 
placed on  earth.  And  many  of  us  also,  looking  at 
the  important  place  which  our  friend  occupied  in 
the  community,  his  remarkable  usefulness  and  his 
special  adaptation  to  his  work,  must  think  that  the 
place  which  he  last  filled  can  never  be  occupied 
again  by  any  one  so  competent  to  that  work.     And 


1 1 8  Tliomas  J.   Mumford. 

then  in  our  hearts,  as  so  often,  we  look  up  and  say, 
Why  he!  why  he!  Why  not  some  of  the  rest  of  us, 
less  useful,  less  needed,  on  whom  fewer  rely  ?  Why 
are  those  taken  that  we  can  so  ill-spare  ?  We  can 
answer  nothing  to  that.  There  is  only  one  answer 
to  it.  Faith  only  can  answer  it,  which  knows  that 
these  events  do  not  come  by  any  blind  chance,  or 
by  any  iron-clad  law  of  destiny,  but  that  they  come 
according  to  the  will,  knowledge,  and  love  of  an 
Infinite  Tenderness  ;  and  therefore,  if  we  could  see 
through  it  all,  as  God  and  the  angels  to-day  see  it, 
we  should  gladly  and  willingly  accept  it,  and  say  it 
is  all  right,  all  good,  and  all  for  the  best.  I  suppose 
that  in  the  other  v/orld,  as  here,  good  and  true  and 
useful  men  are  wanted,  and  that  when  they  are 
taken  from  us  in  the  midst  of  such  great  activity, 
leaving  us  in  the  prime  of  their  life  and  in  the  full 
measure  of  their  power,  when  they  are  accomplishing 
so  much,  they  go  not  to  rest,  except  to  that  rest 
which  comes  from  fuller  work  and  greater  activity. 
Our  dear  brother  goes  on,  but  not  to  any  idleness. 
There  is  a  place  waiting  for  him,  ready  for  him,  in 
some  one  of  the  many  mansions  of  the  house  of  the 
universal  Father ;  and  there  he  will  once  more  put 
that  untiring  mind,  that  perfect  affection  and  tender- 
ness, and  that  determined  will  to  a  new  work  in 
that  higher  world ;  but  to  us  it  is  a  loss,  and  a 
great  one.  He  appeared  to  have  found  his  place, 
where  he  could  be  so  well-occupied  during  the 
many  years  that  seemed  to  lie  before  him,  full  of 
fruit  to   be  gathered    by  his    untiring    hand.     Able 


Life  and  Letters.  119 

and  worthy  men  have  occupied  the  position  which 
he  occupied ;  and  yet,  somehow,  he  seemed  to  put 
into  that  work,  into  the  journal  of  which  he  was 
chief,  a  power,  a  vitality,  and  a  spirit  which  caused 
tliat  journal  to  become,  during  his  time,  better  than 
it  ever  was  before.  We  all  went  in  haste  to  get 
each  new  number  when  it  appeared,  wondering  what 
new  brightness  and  what  new  variety  of  thought  and 
appreciation  we  should  find  in  it. 

We  cannot  help  thinking,  to-day,  of  how  much 
there  was  in  our  dear  brother.  The  passages  of 
Scripture  just  read,  full  of  description  of  every 
variety  of  human  perfection,  do  not  seem  wholly 
unsuited  to  this  hour ;  for  with  all  our  brother's 
ready  intelligence,  all  his  ripe,  keen  wit,  all  his 
sharp  insight,  his  promptness  of  judgment,  there 
was  also  combined  how  much,  as  you  know,  of  ten- 
derness and  the  sweetness  of  a  heart  which  loved 
like  a  woman,  joined  with  a  strength  of  will  which 
made  him  one  of  the  manliest  of  men!  Not  only 
did  he  follow  his  great  Master  in  all  this,  but  he 
also  seemed  to  follow  exactly  in  the  footsteps  of 
that  earthly  master  w'hom  he  so  much  loved  and 
esteemed.  He  was  like  Samuel  J.  May  in  uniting 
with  a  woman's  tenderness  a  man's  unflinching 
courage ;  and  therefore  he  was  so  dear  to  us  all. 
There  may  have  been  those  who,  seeing  that  active, 
asserting  power  and  insight,  that  sharp,  discrimi- 
nating wit.  have  thought  that  he  spoke  recklessly 
sometimes,  and  was  willing  to  wound  his  oppo- 
nents;   but   those  who  knew  him  well  knew  it  was 


1 20  Thomas  J.  Miimford. 

not  in  the  least  so.  He  said  what  he  saw,  and 
could  not  help  saying  it ;  but  there  never  was  one 
touch  of  bitterness  or  of  unkindness  in  anything  that 
came  from  the  pen  of  our  brother.  Those  who  knew 
his  heart  knew  that  to  be  the  truth. 

And  so,  to-day,  we  say  we  have  lost  one  of  the 
bravest  of  men  and  the  tenderest  of  friends.  Not 
lost;  no,  not  lost.  Such  powers,  so  exerted,  remain 
with  us  always.  Long  as  any  of  you  shall  live,  you 
will  never  cease  to  have  him  with  you.  His  love 
and  his  intelligence, —  they  will  go  with  you  always. 
But  there  is  something  more  which  we  must  not 
omit  saying,  now,  in  this  church,  where  so  many 
knew  the  deep  religious  feeling  of  our  brother, — 
we  must  not  omit  saying  that,  joined  with  these 
other  powers,  there  was  a  faith  in  God  like  that  of 
a  little  child.  I  recollect  one  little  incident  which 
he  spoke  of  more  than  once  to  me.  One  night  we 
were  walking  together.  It  was  a  dark  night,  and 
we  were  going  along  a  path  which  I  knew  very  well, 
but  which  was  unknown  to  him ;  and  we  came  to 
.several  places  where  I  said,  "  Take  my  hand  now.  I 
will  lead  you.  This  is  a  difficult  place.  Now,  here, 
jump.  It  is  all  right ;  jump."  And  so  he  jumped, 
and  so  he  would  follow.  And  afterward  he  said 
that  it  seemed  to  him  an  emblem  of  the  childlike 
faith  we  ought  always  to  have:  not  only  that  he 
followed  willingly,  but  that  he  followed  gladly ;  and 
that  there  was  a  certain  joy  which  he  felt  in  leaping 
into  the  darkness,  knowing  that  his  friend  was 
there,  and  could  not  make  a  mistake.     And  so,  on 


Life  and  Letters.  121 

a  higher  platform,  he  has  repeated  that  httle  story 
when  standing  by  the  table  of  his  Master,  and  ♦ 
urging  upon  you  to  trust  God,  and  to  trust  his 
grace.  In  this  spirit,  too,  with  an  ampler  belief 
and  reliance,  he  has  gone  to  take  what  some 
doubters  call  another  leap  into  the  dark.  But  we 
know  that  there  was  no  darkness  to  him  there,  and 
that  when  he  found  himself  in  that  other  world, 
with  those  new  surroundings,  he  felt  that  it  was  all 
right  and  all  good, —  nothing  dark,  nothing  uncer- 
tain. He  was  ready  to  go  forward,  holding  the 
hand  always  of  the  Divinest  of  Friends,  and  trust- 
ing that  he  could  be  led  nowhere  that  would  not 
be  for  his  highest  good.  He  was  ready  to  leap 
into  any  darkness,  while  holding  the  hand  of  his 
heavenly  Father. 


Rev.  R.  P.  Stebbins,  D.D.,  of  Ithaca,  who  was  President  of 
Meadville  Theological  School  when  Mr.  Mumford  entered, 
followed  with  a  warm  tribute  to  his  former  pupil. 


ADDRESS  OF  REV.  RUFUS  P.  STEBBINS,  D.D. 

It  is  finished.  The  work  of  this  active  spirit 
here  is  done.  I  remember  perfectly,  as  if  it  were 
but  yesterday,  when  he  came  to  Meadville  a  quarter 
of  a  century  ago  —  having  caught  new  views  of  the 
mercifulness  of  God  and  the  brotherhood  of  man, 
to  prepare  himself  for  the  Christian  ministry  —  the 
brightness    of   that   face,    the   ardor   of   that   heart, 


122  TJiomas  J.  Miimford. 

the  warmth  of  that  hand.  From  that  hour  to  this, 
and  from  this  on,  if  God  helps  me  to  be  as  faithful 
to  the  great  work  as  he,  forever  on  will  our  hearts 
beat  in  sympathy  of  love.  His  name  was  always 
spoken  with  warmest  affection  in  my  home ;  and 
when  I  learned  that  one  who  was  so  precious  to 
me  during  so  many  years  had  passed  on, —  so  full 
of  spirit,  so  full  of  vigor,  so  full  of  all  the  brightest 
hopes  and  prospects  here, —  I  could  but  wonder  at 
that  divine  Providence  that  had  left  me  behind,  the 
shadows  lengthening,  the  hands  hanging  down,  the 
feet  faltering,  and  taken  him,  the  strong,  the  vig- 
orous, whose  field  was  continually  widening,  whose 
opportunities  for  usefulness  were  constantly  in- 
creasing, and  to  whom  we  were  all  looking  as  a 
great  helper  and  a  great  supporter.  I  feel,  friends, 
that  this  is  not  an  occasion  for  words.  I  have  no 
words  in  which  I  could  express  the  strength  of  my 
affection  and  the  height  of  my  admiration  for  our 
departed  brother  and  Christian  friend  in  the  min- 
istry. I  knew  him  well,  and  I  knew  him  long;  and 
a  more  loving  heart,  a  sweeter  spirit,  a  more  instan- 
taneous judgment,  I  liave  never  been  acquainted 
with.  From  the  beginning  of  his  studies,  he  con- 
tinued to  grow  and  grow  and  grow  into  everything 
that  is  best  and  purest  and  strongest.  And  when 
he  used  his  pen  instead  of  his  tongue,  how  bright 
was  the  stream  that  flowed!  How  clear,  how  pure! 
I  know  there  was  no  bitterness  in  that  heart.  It 
was  open  to  my  inspection  always.  Folly  and  sham 
could  not  pass  the  point  of  his  sparkling  spear  with- 


Life  and  Letters.  1 23 

out  being  punctured ;  and  folly  and  sham  arc  always 
sensitive ;  but  he  never  had  any  bitterness  in  his 
heart. 

Within  the  last  week  he  spoke  to  me  something  in 
regard  to  his  work  on  the  paper,  and  said  it  is  best 
to  have  large  freedom.  It  does  us  all  good,  he  said, 
when  we  feel  uneasy,  to  speak  of  it ;  and  it  does  us 
all  good,  when  we  think  we  have  something  very 
important  for  the  world  to  know,  to  be  able  to  let 
the  world  know  it :  we  feel  better.  "  I  do  not  fear," 
he  said.  "  The  good  common  sense  and  common, 
practical  judgment,  the  warm  love  and  charity  of 
the  people,  will  understand  all  this.  And  I  do  not 
think  it  is  worth  while  for  us  to  set  ourselves  up 
as  popish  and  arbitrary;  but  let  the  word  have 
free  course  as  it  comes  to  each."  That  was  the 
spirit  of  our  brother  all  the  time.  And  yet,  when 
a  foolish  thing  was  said,  he  could  not  let  it  pass 
without  touching  it  with  his  Ithuriel  spear ;  and  if 
he  did  so,  it  was  to  show  how  exceedingly  foolish  it 
was,  for  he  was  wisdom, —  practical  wisdom.  From 
the  first  day  that  he  entered  the  Theological  School 
at  Meadville,  all  through  his  life,  he  was  eminent 
for  his  practical  wisdom.  In  nothing  was  he  more 
noted,  except  for  his  loving,  all-embracing  sympathy 
and  kindness. 

But  why  do  I  speak }  As  the  fragrance  of  these 
flowers  fills  the  church,  so  the  fragrance  of  his 
memory  is  in  every  heart,  and  is  fresh  in  all  our 
thoughts.  Brethren,  may  God  help  us  to  be  as 
faithful   as  our  departed  brother,  so  that  w^hen  we 


1 24  Thomas  J.  Mitmford. 

shall  pass  on,  others  will  cherish  our  memory,  and 
honor  and  imitate  our  faithfulness! 


HYMN. 

"  Oh  for  the  peace  that  floweth  as  a  river, 

Making  life's  desert-places  bloom  and  smile ! 
Oh  for  that  faith  to  grasp  the  glad  Forever, 
Amid  the  shadows  of  earth's  Little  While  I 

"  A  little  while,  'mid  shadow  and  illusion, 
To  strive  by  faith  love's  mysteries  to  spell. 
Then  read  each  dark  enigma's  bright  solution, 

Then  hail  sight's  verdict, —  He  doth  all  things  well. 

"  And  He  who  is  Himself  the  Gift  and  Giver, 
The  future  glory  and  the  present  smile, 
"With  the  bright  promise  of  the  glad  Forever, 
Will  light  the  shadows  of  earth's  Little  While." 

Rev.  J.  H,  Morison,  his  near  neighbor  and  friend  at  Milton, 
for  whom  Mr.  Mumford  always  entertained  the  warmest  love, 
added  his  testimony  to  the  sweetness  and  worth  of  his 
character. 


ADDRESS  OF  REV.  J.  H.  MORISON,  D.D. 

My  friends,  the  friends  of  Christian  liberty  and 
Christian  truth,  have  lost  a  most  able  and  intrepid 
champion  of  their  cause.  Almost  every  generous 
philanthropical  enterprise  has  lost  a  faithful,  able, 
generous  supporter.  As  the  chief  of  our  principal 
religious  paper  here  in  New  England,  our  friend 
was  brought  weekly  into  personal  relations  with  a 
far  larger    audience    than    any   other   man    in   our 


Life  and  Letters.  125 

denomination.  It  has  been  a  matter  of  wonder  to 
me  to  see  how,  week  after  week,  he  has  met  the 
severe  requirements  of  this  situation.  We  do  not 
all  of  us  know  how  great  these  responsibilities  are. 
As  the  banker  in  his  office,  in  trying  times,  is  called 
upon  at  the  instant  to  give  his  judgment  on  which 
other  fortunes  than  his  own  depend, —  as  the  general 
on  the  field  of  battle  is  obliged  in  an  instant  to  issue 
orders  on  which  the  lives  of  thousands,  and  perhaps 
the  liberty  of  the  country,  depend, —  so  the  editor  of  a 
paper,  in  trying  times,  is  often  obliged  at  the  moment 
to  make  up  his  mind,  and  issue  his  opinions,  on  sub- 
jects of  vast  interest  to  the  whole  community  which 
he  represents.  It  has  been  to  me  a  matter  of  sur- 
prise, knowing  the  previous  life  of  our  friend,  that 
he  should  understand  so  well  as  he  did  all  the  cir- 
cumstances which  must  enter  into  such  a  judgment, 
so  as  to  be  able,  week  after  week,  to  issue  those 
extemporary  opinions,  so  many  of  them,  and  very 
seldom  one  which  did  not  commend  itself  to  our 
judgment.  Thus  we  have  met  with  a  great  public 
loss,  and  we  cannot  tell  how  that  loss  may  be  sup- 
plied. But,  in  a  time  like  this,  we  who  have  lived 
near  him,  we  who  have  known  him  in  the  closer 
and  dearer  relations  of  life,  look  inward,  and  think 
of  him  as  he  was  in  himself,  and  as  he  was  to  us, 
—  our  neighbor,  our  brother,  our  friend.  It  seems 
but  a  little  while  since  we  gathered  here  in  this 
church,  to  welcome  him  as  a  minister  of  Christ.  It 
seems  but  a  little  while.  He  came  heralded  by  no 
sounding  of   trumpets, —  only  by   that  very  modest 


1 26  Thomas  J.  Miimford. 

bearing  of  his ;  but  year  by  year,  and  week  by  week, 
he  was  winning  his  way  into  the  hearts  of  those 
who  were  around  him,  until  at  last  it  seemed  to  us 
as  if  our  homes  were  worth  more  to  us  than  they 
had  been,  because  he  sometimes  came  to  us.  The 
tenderness,  the  sweetness,  the  child-like  trust  in 
him,  endeared  him  very  much  to  those  of  us  who 
lived  near  him.  In  looking  forward  to  the  possible 
trials  that  might  fall  upon  us,  the  heavy  cares  which 
must  in  process  of  time  come,  it  was  something  to 
feel  that  his  tender  sympathies  would  come  in  to 
soften  the  hardness  of  the  stroke;  it  was  some- 
thing to  feel  that  his  genial  and  mighty  faith  would 
come  there,  to  light  up  the  darkness  of  the  hour. 
And  when  these  trials  came,  and  this  dear  brother 
entered  our  homes  so  unobtrusively,  we  felt  that  his 
presence  was  a  comfort,  even  more  than  we  had 
anticipated.  Sweet  and  pleasant  and  precious  to 
many  of  us,  to  you  and  to  me,  are  the  memories  of 
his  kindly  sympathy,  at  the  trying  moment,  in  times 
past.  Dear  and  precious  to  us  was  our  friend  and 
brother.  That  is  what  I  love  to  dwell  upon  now. 
Sudden,  terribly  sudden,  we  might  say,  was  his 
death.  I  do  not  remember  ever  hearing  an  an- 
nouncement of  the  kind  that  came  more  suddenly. 
But  recently,  in  my  native  place,  he  had  been  to 
give  a  labor  of  love,  as  his  custom  was.  Only  three 
weeks  ago  he  was  there.  Everybody  was  pleased 
to  hear  him;  and  suddenly,  by  telegraph,  the  news 
came  that  he  had  passed  away.  "Is  it  true.-*"  asked 
our  minister  there,  with  tears  in  his  eyes, —  "is   it 


Life  and  Letters.  12/ 

true  that  Mr.  Mumford  is  dead?  Can  it  be  so?" 
And  yet,  sudden  as  it  has  been  to  us,  it  was  not,  I 
believe,  entirely  so  to  him.  Hardly  more  than  a 
month  ago  a  sweet  sister  of  his,  the  feminine, 
softened  image  of  what  was  gentlest,  strongest,  and 
best  in  him,  was  suddenly  taken  away,  and  he  was 
called  to  Detroit,  the  place  where  her  life  on  earth 
had  ended ;  and  there,  with  his  heart  subdued  and 
open  to  the  influence  of  all  tender  associations,  he 
was  brought  into  connection  with  those  among 
whom  his  earliest  ministry  had  been  passed ;  and, 
on  his  way  home,  he  visited  other  places  where  dear 
friends  were  whom  he  delighted  to  meet.  Under 
these  afflicting  circumstances,  it  may  seem  to  us  as 
if  he  had  been  making  a  valedictory  journey, —  a 
farewell  visit  to  those  who  had  been  very  dear  to 
him  in  former  years.  He  came  back  to  resume  his 
labors  and  to  enter  into  his  home, —  a  new  and 
beautiful  home,  which  had  just  been  prepared  for 
him.  In  all  this,  may  we  not  see  the  hand  of  a 
loving  Providence  gently  leading  and  preparing  him 
for  the  last  change  on  earth, —  the  change  from  an 
earthly  to  a  heavenly  home  ? 

A  few  weeks  ago,  as  he  and  those  dearest  to  him 
entered  into  their  new  Home,  they  said,  "  We  have 
here  a  home  for  life  :  may  wc  not  also  secure  for 
ourselves  a  home  for  death?"  And  in  the  quiet 
Milton  graveyard  they  secured  a  lot, —  almost,  one 
might  say,  with  a  prevision  of  what  was  to  come  I 
and  in  making  this  choice,  he  was  led  by  the  tender 
affections    of   his    nature.      In    that    quiet   cemetery 


128  TJiomas  J.  Mum  ford. 

were  buried  some  of  his  old  parishioners  who  were 
very  dear  to  him.  There  especially  was  one,  a 
young  wife  and  mother,  cut  off  in  the  blossoming 
and  promise  of  life, —  one  of  the  dearest  lambs  of 
his  flock.  And  there,  too,  were  buried  a  few  of  his 
brother  ministers  who  were  dear  to  him :  one 
of  his  predecessors  in  this  church, —  a  thoughtful 
scholar,  a  kind  neighbor,  a  courteous,  Christian 
gentleman,  Francis  Cunningham.  And  there  was 
another  friend  of  his,  Joseph  Angier,  who  by  his 
social  gifts  and  his  gift  of  song  had  endeared  him- 
self very  much  to  his  brethren.  And  there,  with 
these  older  friends,  was  he  to  have  his  ashes  rest 
near  those  of  our  dearly-honored  younger  brother, 
Francis  Washburn, —  that  profound  and  reverent 
theologian,  that  gifted,  saintly  man,  who  seemed 
only  to  have  begun  to  live  here  upon  the  earth 
when  his  life  was  transferred  to  higher  spheres. 
These  associations,  I  think,  were  what  led  our 
brother  to  choose  that  spot  as  a  final  resting-place, 
that  the  ashes  of  himself  and  his  family  might  be 
placed  there. 

Dear,  sainted  memories  gather  around  me.  This 
place  where  he  ministered  calls  up  the  form  of  his 
immediate  predecessor,  a  devoted,  faithful.  Christian 
man,  who,  greatly  beloved  and  lamented,  was  called 
away  from  his  earthly  labors.  But  not  with  the 
dead  are  we  to  dwell  here.  Not  in  that  cemetery, 
beautiful  as  it  is,  and  hallowed  as  are  the  associa- 
tions connected  with  it, —  not  there  does  the  thought 
of  our  dear  brother  lead  us.     A  man  so  full  of  life, 


Life  and  LcttcTS.  129 

so  full  of  intelligence,  so  full  of  spiritual  power, —  it 
is  hard  to  associate  the  thought  of  him  with  the 
grave.  He  has  nothing  to  do  with  that.  It  is  the 
dust  that  mingles  with  its  kindred  dust.  Such  a  life 
is  the  strongest  visible  assurance  that  we  can  have 
of  the  immortal  world ;  and  it  requires  no  effort  of 
the  imagination  to  transfer  him  there,  but  rather  an 
effort  to  prevent  it.  No  effort  of  the  imagination  is 
called  for,  to  see  him  there,  with  the  sweet  and  beau- 
tiful spirit  of  the  sister  who  only  a  few  weeks  ago 
passed^rom  earth  to  heaven, —  to  see  him  mingling 
with  the  many  with  whom  he  has  been  connected 
here,  and  carrying  on  with  them,  in  higher  forms  of 
life,  the  work  which  was  begun  here.  For,  as  has 
been  said,  all  his  friends  were  dear  friends.  Those 
who,  by  one  of  a  less  generous  and  a  less  loving 
nature,  might  have  been  looked  upon  as  instruments 
for  work  were  all  his  personal  friends, —  dear  friends. 
We  cannot  but  think  of  him  now  as  joining  dear 
friends  in  that  higher  world,  to  rejoice  with  them, 
to  work  with  them  under  the  same  blessed  Father, 
under  the  guidance  of  the  same  beloved  and  re- 
vered Lord  and  Saviour  to  whom  he  had  looked 
here  with  so  much  reverence  and  love.  Yes,  the 
limitations  of  this  world  are  broken  asunder;  the 
separations  which  differences  of  opinion  make  here 
pass  away.  Even  here,  with  all  his  severity  of  judg- 
ment on  what  seemed  to  him  wrong,  and  with  all 
the  firmness  with  which  he  held  to  what  he  thought 
was  the  truth,  he  was  very  tolerant, —  no,  not  toler- 
ant, for  tolerance  implies  some  assumption  of  supe- 


1 30  Thomas  J.  Mumford. 

riority,  and  he  looked  upon  those  who  differed  from 
him  with  a  most  catholic  spirit,  just  as  he  looked  on 
those  who  agreed  with  him,  so  far  as  they  were  per- 
sonally concerned.  They  were  his  brethren,  they 
were  his  friends,  all  the  same.  He  was  united  to 
them  by  the  same  ties  of  confidence,  affection,  and 
love.  And  now,  where  I  trust  they  all  see  more 
clearly  than  ever  before,  he  has  gone  to  unite  with 
Christians  of  every  name, —  with  the  pure  and  the 
good  of  every  name, —  to  unite  with  them,  and  rejoice 
with  them,  in  "joy  unspeakable  and  full  of  glory." 

HYMN. 

God  giveth  quietness  at  last ! 
The  common  way  once  more  is  passed, 
From  pleading  tears  and  lingerings  fond 
To  fuller  life  and  love  beyond. 

Fold  the  wrapt  soul  in  your  embrace. 
Dear  ones  familiar  with  the  place  I 
While  to  the  gentle  greetings  there 
We  answer  here  with  murmured  prayer. 

O  pure  soul  1  from  that  far-off  shore 
Float  some  sweet  song  the  waters  o'er  I 
Our  faith  confirm,  our  fears  dispel, 
With  the  dear  voice  we  loved  so  welll 

The  Rev.  George  W.  Hosmer,  of  Newton,  the  first  Unitarian 
preacher  that  Mr.  Mumford  ever  heard,  who  gave  him  the 
charge  at  his  ordination  in  Detroit,  and  who  held  a  place  in  his 
affections  second  only  to  those  in  his  own  household,  closed 
the  service  with  a  fervent,  uplifting  prayer. 

The  body  was  then  removed  to  the  cemetery  in  Milton, 
where,  after  a  brief  prayer  by  the  Rev.  Dr.  Morison,  it  was 
committed  to  its  final  resting-place  beneath  the  pines. 


XIII. 

BIOGRAPHICAL   SKETCH. 

For  the  number  of  The  Christian  Register  next  following 
Mr.  Mumford's  death,  his  friend,  Rev.  Rush  R.  Shippen, 
contributed  as  editorial,  in  substance,  the  following  brief 
biographical  sketch:  — 

Thomas  James  Mumford  was  born  in  Gillisonville, 
Beaufort  District,  South  Carolina,  June  26,  1826. 
His  father  had  gone  thither  not  long  before,  from 
Newport,  R.I.,  but  soon  returned  to  the  North, 
and  died  in  early  manhood.  His  mother,  a  South- 
erner, we  remember  as  of  quiet,  refined,  and  gentle 
presence.  Thomas,  who,  as  he  came  to  manhood, 
became,  from  principle,  a  foe  to  slavery,  always  clicr- 
ished  a  certain  romantic  pride  of  his  Southern  birth, 
and  a  tender  memory  of  the  scenes  and  people  of 
his  Southern  home.  His  later  boyhood  was  spent 
in  Waterloo,  N.Y.  Here  he  attended  an  excellent 
academy,  studying  Latin ;  at  seventeen  delivering 
an  oration  on  Ireland ;  graduating  at  eighteen,  noted 
for  his  bright  promise ;  and  the  same  year  giving 
the  Fourth  of  July  oration  for  the  town.  He  then 
studied  law  ;  but,  following  the  natural  bent  of  his 
best  talent,  soon  turned  editor  of  the  county  paper. 
After  the  nomination  of  Cass  and  Taylor  as  candi- 
dates for  the  Presidency,  when  the  t\v(j  great  leading 


132  Thomas  J.  Miimford. 

parties  of  the  country  seemed  to  him  committed  to 
the  support  of  slavery,  he  promptly  turned  it  into 
an  organ  of  the  new  party  of  freedom.  He  thereby 
steadily,  but  with  unflinching  heroism  and  loyalty 
to  the  cause  he  had  with  all  his  soul  espoused, 
in  financial  respects,  ruined  his  paper;  but  he  had 
thrown  himself  into  the  forward  movement  of  the 
age,  and  its  flooding  tide  bore  him  on  to  his  best 
experience  and  destiny.  Coming  to  the  Worcester 
Free-soil  Convention  of  1848,  he  heard  Charles 
Sumner,  and  became  acquainted  with  Judge  Charles 
Allen,  whose  friendship  he  ever  after  enjoyed.  At 
Waterloo  was  a  little  company  of  Progressive 
Friends.  Of  this  company  was  the  family  of 
Thomas  McClintock,  who  gave  him  liberal  books, 
and  among  them  the  works  of  Channing.  Reading 
these  with  avidity,  he  soon  found  himself  outgrowing 
the  creed  of  the  Episcopal  Church,  in  which  he  had 
been  baptized  and  brought  up ;  but,  before  he  left 
it,  he  applied  himself  to  the  study  of  the  various 
faiths  of  the  different  leading  sects :  and  in  leaving 
the  beliefs  of  his  early  years  he  broke  no  friend- 
ship, nor  lost  his  loving  regard  for  the  church 
from  which  he  sorrowfully  went  out.  Through  his 
Quaker  friends  he  soon  met  Samuel  J.  May,  of 
the  neighboring  city  of  Syracuse.  Congenial  spirits, 
with  a  wonderful  spiritual  likeness,  they  instantly 
went  to  each  other's  hearts.  Mr.  May  always  play- 
fully called  him  his  son  Timothy.  They  were  like 
boys  together,  with  a  warm  intimacy  closer  than 
that    of    brothers,   lasting    through   life.     And   the 


Life  and  Letters.  135 

beautiful  memoir  of  May  is  but  a  copy  of  impres- 
sions photographed  on  his  young  friend's  heart. 
Under  Mr.  May's  guidance,  Mr.  Mumford  went,  in 
the  fall  of  1849,  to  the  Theological  School  at  Mead- 
ville.  Here  he  remained  two  years,  having  Scandlin 
and  the  Staples  brothers  among  his  companions ;. 
and  as  teachers,  besides  Dr.  Stebbins  and  the  other 
professors.  Rev.  James  Freeman  Clarke,  who  for 
recruiting  health  was  resting  for  a  year  from  his 
ministerial  labors  in  Boston.  There  Thomas,  as  %ve 
must  still  call  him, —  for  he  always  preferred  this 
Quaker  custom, —  with  his  rosy  face,  fair  as  that  of  a 
young  girl,  his  fresh,  frank  manner,  his  bubbling  fun 
and  flashing  wit  and  fascinating  sympathy,  speedily 
captivated  all  hearts.  It  was  beautiful  to  witness 
how,  with  superior  culture,  his  quick  sympathy  saw, 
under  the  uncouth  exterior  of  the  sailor  boy,  just 
from  the  ship's  deck  and  from  Father  Taylor's 
Bethel,  the  inner  worth  and  nobility  of  Scandlin. 
Unlike  as  they  were  in  training  and  experience,, 
their  hearts  were  kindred.  The  gracious  spirit  of 
Mumford  was  to  Scandlin  like  sunshine  to  a  flower. 
At  Meadville,  as  through  life,  he  cared  little  for 
abstract  studies  of  history,  philosophy,  or  theology. 
Whatever  he  did  in  this  direction  was  done  from  a 
sense  of  duty.  But  biography  and  poetry  were  his 
delight.  From  personal  memoirs  and  diaries  and 
correspondence,  incident  and  anecdote  and  the  lofty 
inspirations  of  song,  he  gathered  spiritual  food  as  a 
bee  gathers  honey.  His  memory  was  quick,  accu- 
rate, and  tenacious.     He  had  also,  from  the  first,  the 


1 34  Thomas  J.  Mumford. 

precision  of  expression,  the  grace  and  finish,  that 
always  characterized  his  writing.  His  prayers  and 
extempore  speeches  manifested  it.  His  sentences, 
whether  in  sermon,  correspondence,  or  editorial, 
always  fell  at  once  from  his  pen  just  as  they 
remained, —  clear-cut  and  finished  in  expression. 

His  fondness  for  poetry  and  his  enthusiasm  for 
freedom  became  a  new  inspiration  to  the  school. 
His  fellow-students  and  boys  in  the  Sunday-school 
were  charmed  with  the  kindling  influence  of  his 
example,  as  from  the  ample  stores  already  in  his 
memory  he  delighted  to  repeat  long  passages  from 
Coleridge,  Wordsworth,  and  Shelley,  the  stirring 
strains  for  freedom  of  Lowell  and  Whittier,  and  the 
spirited  hymns  of  Samuel  Longfellow's  new  hymn- 
book.  There  still  rings  in  our  memory  one  of  his 
favorite  mottoes  :  — 

"  It  is  the  heart,  and  not  the  brain, 
That  to  the  highest  doth  attain." 

Into  the  debates  of  the  school,  too,  he  introduced 
a  topic  then  comparatively  new.  With  romantic 
ardor  he  became  the  champion  of  woman's  equal 
right  to  education,  to  chance  for  work  with  just 
wages,  to  equitable  tenure  of  property,  and  to  repre- 
sentation by  the  ballot.  This  was  the  theme  of  one 
of  his  first  and  best  essays. 

Like  his  father  May,  he  cared  little  for  the  techni- 
calities of  dogmatic  theology,  but  desired  then  and 
always,  with  unreserved  devotion,  to  consecrate  him- 
self an  earnest  apostle  of  human  rights  and  brother- 


Life  and  Letters.  135 

hood,  of  the  fatherly  love  of  God,  and  of  all  practical 
religion.  Following  the  guidance  of  Furness,  he 
was  an  appreciative  student  of  the  Gospels,  and 
recognized  Jesus  as  humanity's  divinest  leader.  His 
essay  at  graduation  was  on  "  Christ  the  Light  of  the 
World. " 

In  July,  185 1,  he  preached  as  candidate  in  Detroit. 
No  Unitarian  society  had  yet  been  gathered  there, 
though  a  few  earnest  Unitarians  were  eagerly  await- 
ing it,  and  a  few  sermons  had  been  preached  by  the 
ministers  of  Buffalo  and  Chicago.  After  two  or 
three  Sundays  he  received  a  hearty  call,  with  entire 
unanimity  of  the  people,  immediately  accepted,  and 
organized  the  church  to  whose  ministry  he  was 
ordained.  Rev.  James  Freeman  Clarke  preached 
the  sermon,  on  the  Unitarian  belief ;  Dr.  Hosmer,  of 
Buffalo,  gave  the  charge ;  and  Rev.  Rush  R.  Shippen, 
of  Chicago,  the  right  hand  of  fellowship.  In  the 
spring-time  he  took  to  Detroit,  as  his  young  wife, 
Sarah  Shippen,  of  Meadville.  Though  she  con- 
tinned  but  two  years  longer  on  earth,  the  years  were 
ever  after  rich  with  memories  of  their  pleasant  home. 

In  attempting  to  build  a  new  church,  the  little 
band  had  subscribed  their  utmost,  and  were  proud 
and  happy  in  their  independence,  with  the  prospect 
of  building  for  themselves,  unaided,  a  new  house 
of  worship ;  but,  as  the  walls  were  ready  for  the 
roof,  a  sudden  storm  prostrated  them,  and  compelled 
the  young  minister,  without  Eastern  reputation  or 
acquaintance,  to  make  his  first  visit  among  his 
brother-ministers  on  a  begging  expedition.     Through 


136  Thomas  J.  Miunford. 

this  trying  ordeal  he  passed  so  bravely,  yet  so  mod- 
estly, that,  while  he  accomplished  his  purpose,  he 
won  golden  opinions  as  well  as  contributions.  He 
never  ceased  to  remember  with  gratitude  his  gra- 
cious reception  by  Ephraim  Peabody,  Starr  King, 
Calvin  Lincoln,  then  Secretary  of  the  American 
Unitarian  Association,  and  others.  He  at  first  felt 
hurt  by  one  brother  accusing  him  of  "speculating 
upon  Providence";  but,  soon  perceiving  Mumford's 
genuine  quality,  the  same  brother,  with  his  accus- 
tomed self-accusing  penitence,  begged  forgiveness, 
and  ended  by  helping  him  as  generously  as  any. 

In  Detroit  he  remained  about  nine  years,  in  a 
successful  ministry  of  unbroken  affection  with  his 
people,  leaving  only  by  the  necessity  of  change  for 
renewed  health.  For  a  year  he  ministered  to  the 
Unitarian  church  at  Marietta,  Ohio.  Thence  coming 
to  New  England,  he  married  Elizabeth  G.  Warren, 
of  Groton,  who,  with  a  son,  named  for  Edgar  Huide- 
koper,  survives  him,  to  whom  go  forth  the  abounding 
gratitude  and  sympathy  of  a  multitude  of  friends, 
praying  for  the  best  consolations  of  Heaven  to 
sustain  and  bless.  During  the  larger  part  of  a  year 
he  supplied  the  pulpit  at  Greenfield,  while  its  patri- 
otic minister,  Rev.  J.  F.  Moors,  went  as  chaplain  in 
the  army  near  New  Orleans.  While  candidating  for 
a  brief  period,  he  had  a  glimpse  of  that  trying  expe- 
rience, which  he  so  graphically  portrayed  in  a  series 
of  articles  in  the  Montlily  Joiwjial.  Soon  he  settled 
as  pastor  of  the  Third  Church  of  Dorchester,  and  in 
his  new  home  at  the   Lower  Mills  village  speedily 


Life  and  Letters.  137 

surrounded  himself  with  a  host  of  new  friends. 
While  here,  he  did  good  service  as  Secretary  of  the 
Sunday  School  Society,  being  immediate  predecessor 
of  James  P.  Walker.  He  became,  at  this  time,  a 
frequent  contributor  to  the  Register ;  then  assistant 
editor;  and  nearly  six  years  since  he  took  entire 
charge  of  the  paper,  which  till  his  death  he  con- 
tinued with  signal  and  increasing  success. 

It  was  a  return  to  his  first  love, —  a  renewal  of  the 
boyish  enthusiasm  and  joy  of  his  first  venture  of 
manly  work  as  editor.  He  always  felt  that  in  this 
direction  lay  his  special  gift.  His  style  was  terse, 
sententious,  epigrammatic.  His  thought  was  too 
quick  for  lengthened,  logical  discourse.  He  dis- 
liked abstractions.  He  never  fired  into  the  air.  He 
always  wanted  to  see  his  mark,  and  to  hit  it  at  the 
first  shot.  His  genius  was  as  paragraphist,  best  seen 
in  his  "Brevities."  To  those  who  did  not  know 
him,  his  arrows  sometimes  seemed  barbed ;  but  no 
rankling  wound  could  ever  have  been  felt  by  any 
who  knew  the  merry  good  humor  with  which  his 
most  pointed  and  pungent  pleasantry  was  always 
sent  forth.  His  fountain  of  fun  and  wit,  perpet- 
ually bubbling  and  sparkling,  was  repressed  by  the 
proprieties  of  pulpit  decorum.  Therefore,  though 
interested  in  pulpit  themes,  though  reverent  and 
devout,  though  attractive  and  effective  in  the  pulpit, 
enjoying  and  never  wholly  leaving  it,  in  the  editor's 
chair  he  could  more  amply  indulge  his  irrepressible 
vivacity,  and  in  its  opportunity  he  revelled  with 
more   abounding   delight.     He   delighted   in   every- 


138  Thomas  J.  Mumford. 

thing  pertaining  to  the  paper,  enjoyed  every  number 
as  a  fresh  flower,  perpetually  aspiring  to  make  the 
next  one  better  than  the  last.  Nothing  connected 
with  it  ever  degenerated  into  mechanical  routine. 
He  was  proud  of  the  success  of  his  contributors 
and  of  the  skill  of  his  publisher,  and  counted  every 
correspondent  and  every  compositor  of  type  as  a 
personal  friend.  It  was  throughout  a  labor  of  love. 
His  work  was  a  perpetual  joy;  yet  few  knew  how 
laboriously  he  toiled.  During  the  passing  summer, 
many  a  morning  found  him  at  five  o'clock  writing 
his  editorials.  Many  contributions  he  declined 
gracefully  as  he  could,  yet  with  courageous  firm- 
ness. Meanwhile,  he  was  casting  his  lines  on 
every  side,  busy  as  a  fisherman  to  catch  the  best. 
Through  a  wilderness  of  papers,  dailies,  and  literary 
and  religious  weeklies,  he  wandered,  to  find  the 
fresh  flowers  that  made  his  fragrant  and  brilliant 
weekly  bouquet. 

With  signal  and  increasing  success,  he  made  it  the 
crowning  work  of  his  life.  He  was  rapidly  winning 
for  it  a  front  rank  among  the  religious  papers  of 
the  time,  compelling  for  it  the  favor  and  respect  of 
editors  and  readers  of  widely  divergent  faith.  All 
readers  discerned  between  its  lines  a  manly  strength 
and  sweetness  worth  more  than  eloquent  argument 
or  brilliant  wit.  Behind  its  columns  they  recog- 
nized a  Christian  manhood  that  has  rendered  the 
paper  less  the  organ  of  a  sect  than  the  expression 
of  an  earnest,  consecrated  soul.  As  the  editorial 
chair  became  vacant,  the  liberal  faith  lost  an  accom- 


Life  a7id  Letters.  139 

plished  advocate,  and  a  great  multitude  tenderly 
mourned  the  departure  of  a  most  genial  and  loving 
personal  friend. 

Invitations  to  preach  he  often  declined,  lest  he 
should  stand  in  the  way  of  some  candidate,  or  of 
some  brother  who  needed  the  stipend  more  than  he. 
Though  laborious  Mondays  demanded  his  utmost 
strength,  whenever  call  came  from  a  brother  sick 
or  disabled,  for  a  pulpit  service  on  Sunday,  his  labor 
of  love  was  always  ready.  In  time  of  sorrow  to  any 
of  his  friends,  his  swift  sympathy  was  instantly  at 
their  side.  His  services  in  the  sick  chamber  or  at 
the  funeral  were  unusually  helpful  and  welcome,  by 
his  rare  tenderness  of  sympathy,  and  by  his  quick 
perception  of  the  fitting  word  for  the  hour.  His 
affection  willingly  rendered  them,  however  severe 
the  cost  to  his  strength,  which  his  exacting  editorial 
duties  could  ill  spare. 

His  personal  friendships  were  wonderful  in  their 
number,  their  variety,  and  their  warmth.  Gener- 
osity and  kindliness  sometimes  hide  unsuspected 
behind  silent  reserve,  shrinking  through  delicacy 
from  possible  intrusiveness.  Never  intrusive,  but 
with  a  gift  for  the  expression  of  sympathy,  and  for 
establishing  mutual  confidence,  he  was  welcomed 
into  the  most  sacred  privacy, —  into  the  very  holy 
of  holies  of  many  homes  and  hearts.  The  letters 
he  wrote  were  like  those  of  a  lover.  He  remem- 
bered the  birthdays,  wedding-days,  red-letter  days  of 
every  sort,  on  the  calendars  of  many  a  household. 
When  not  present  in  person,  some  gift  of  flower,. 


140  Thomas  J.  Mumford. 

book,  picture,  or  love-letter  was  sure  to  represent 
him.  As  his  lavish  outpouring  of  sympathy  never 
failed  to  bring  loving  response,  we  never  entered  a 
home  so  filled  as  his  with  the  unnumbered  memen- 
toes of  personal  affection. 

None  more  sensitive  to  criticism  than  he ;  yet  it 
never  swerved  him,  when  the  true  course  seemed 
clear.  Nobody  could  use  his  columns  for  the  pur- 
poses of  personal  advantage.  The  generous  appre- 
ciation so  largely  given  his  paper  brought  him  deep 
satisfaction ;  but  in  hours  of  criticism  or  of  weari- 
ness that  sometimes  came,  would  that  he  might  have 
heard  the  chorus  of  gratitude  that  sings  his  requiem ! 
Perhaps  it  cheers  him  now,  as  he  already  begins 
some  new  service  in  the  better  world. 

How  suddenly  he  left  us !  Yet  how  happy  his 
life's  ending !  On  Saturday  at  his  post  of  duty,  he 
was  busily  discussing  plans  for  the  autumn's  denom- 
inational campaign,  and  preparing  material  in  advance 
for  the  paper  which  was  issued  upon  the  morning 
when  we  tenderly  laid  him  in  his  grave.  On  Sunday, 
rejoicing  in  the  rest  and  companionship  of  his 
charming  new  home,  he  joyfully  welcomed  to  it  the 
nearest  companions  of  his  daily  toil,  glad  to  show 
them  its  countless  tokens  of  loving  remembrance, 
and  its  lovely  outlook  on  land  and  sea.  Then,  as  by 
swift  transition,  he  passed  on  to  other  loved  com- 
panions and  higher  service  in  the  house  of  many 
mansions,  the  new  home  proving  to  be  his  beautiful 
gate  to  heaven. 

Farewell,  O  valiant  soldier!    our  knight  without 


Life  and  Letters.  141 

fear  and  without  reproach.  Farewell,  O  faithful, 
loving  soul,  so  gentle,  yet  so  strong;  so  thoughtless 
of  self ;  so  generous  to  every  human  being ;  so 
earnest  for  truth ;  so  loyal  to  the  right,  to  duty,  and 
to  God !  This  world  is  richer  and  better  for  your 
having  lived  in  it.  How  can  we  spare  you  from  it  ? 
Yet  God  knows  best,  and  heaven  is  more  attractive 
by  your  presence. 


XIV. 

A  MEMORIAL  SERMON. 

For  more  than  a  month  it  had  been  known  that  Rev. 
John  W.  Chadwick,  of  Brooklyn,  N.Y.,  would  preach  to  the 
Third  Church  of  Dorchester,  on  Sunday,  September  2;  but 
none  knew  what  his  topic  would  be.  How  fitting  it  was  that 
Mr.  Chadwick  should  deliver,  on  that  occasion,  this  faithful 
tribute  to  the  memory  of  his  friend  will  be  seen  from  the 
peculiar  circumstances  which  the  address  relates.  Providence 
chose  his  theme  for  him.  If  he  had  searched  throughout  the 
pages  of  the  written  Word,  he  could  not  have  found  a  more 
suitable  text  than  he  found  in  that  noble  life. 

Mr,  Chadwick  prefaced  his  address  by  reading  the  fol- 
lowing poem,  by  Henry  Septimus  Sutton:  — 

How  beautiful  it  is  to  be  alive  I  — 
To  wake  each  morn,  as  if  the  Maker's  grace 
Did  us  afresh  from  nothingness  derive. 
That  we  might  sing,  How  happy  is  our  case. 
How  beautiful  it  is  to  be  alive  ! 

To  read  in  some  good  book,  until  we  feel 
Love  for  the  one  who  wrote  it ;  then  to  kneel 
Close  unto  Him  whose  love  our  soul  will  shrive, 
While  every  moment's  joy  doth  more  reveal 
How  beautiful  it  is  to  be  alive. 

Rather  to  go  without  what  might  increase 
Our  worldly  standing  than  our  souls  deprive 
Of  frequent  speech  with  God,  or  than  to  cease 
To  feel,  through  having  lost  our  health  and  peace, 
How  beautiful  it  is  to  be  alive. 


Life  and  Letters.  143 

Not  to  forget,  when  pain  and  grief  draw  nigh, 
Into  the  ocean  of  time  past  to  dive 
For  memories  of  God's  mtrcies;  or  to  try 
To  bear  all  nobly,  hoping  still  to  cry, 
How  beautiful  it  is  to  be  alive. 

Thus  ever,  towards  man's  height  of  nobleness 
Striving,  some  new  progression  to  contrive, 
Till,  just  as  any  other  friend's,  we  press 
Deaths  hand ;  and,  having  died,  feel,  none  the  less, 
How  beautiful  it  is  to  be  alive. 


Dear  friends,  for  many  weeks  I  have  been  looking 
forward  to  this  day  with  joyfullest  anticipations.  It 
was  to  be  the  crown  of  my  vacation's  happiness.  I 
was  to  spend  it  with  my  dear  friend  Mumford,  in  his 
beautiful  new  home.  How  merrily  we  should  have 
sped  the  hours !  What  pleasant  talk  we  should  have 
had  of  nature,  men,  and  books !  How  pleasant,  too, 
the  thought  of  speaking  to  his  people, —  his  none  the 
less  because  the  official  tie  was  sundered  long  ago. 
Once  his,  in  any  deep  and  earnest  way,  was  to  be  his 
forever.  He  was  to  choose  what  I  should  preach  to 
you.  And  has  he  not  chosen .-'  Living,  he  might 
have  hesitated  between  this  and  that.  Dying,  he 
leaves  to  me  no  choice.  All  themes  but  one  would 
be  impertinent,  lictter  be  silent  than  to  speak  of 
anything  but  that  which  marshals  every  thought 
and  feeling  to  its  side.  Better  perhaps  be  silent 
than  to  speak  of  that.  Better  to  sit  in  silence,  and 
listen  for  the  inward  voice  of  memory  and  hope. 

But  we  are  under  bonds  of  custom  and  utfection 
to  speak  of  our  departed  friend.     The  outer  will  not 


144  Thomas  J.  Mmnford. 

quench  the  inward  voice.  This  will  go  sounding 
softly  on,  like  music  through  a  solemn  ritual.  This 
will  have  other  days  and  weeks  and  years  to  hallow 
with  his  "real  presence."  Perhaps,  if  he  could  do  so, 
he  would  lay  a  hushing  finger  on  my  lips.  But  from 
his  interdict,  might  I  not  appeal  to  his  example  .-^ 
How  glad  he  always  was  to  sound  abroad  the  praise 
of  noble  men  !  It  was  a  duty  and  a  privilege  which 
he  had  neither  right  nor  disposition  to  forego.  Shall 
we  not  try  to  deal  with  him  as  justly  as  he  dealt  with 
those  who  have,  I  think,  forgiven  him  already  for  so 
frankly  publishing  their  worth  "t 

The  story  of  his  life  has  been  already  briefly  told 
in  the  daily  journals,  and  will  be  in  his  own  with 
greater  fulness  by  a  loving  hand ;  but  you  will 
gladly  bear  with  me  while  I  recount  its  principal 
events. 

Thomas  James  Mumford  was  born  in  South  Caro- 
lina, June  26,  1826,  his  father  being  Northern  and 
his  mother  Southern  born.  In  search  of  health,  the 
man  had  found  a  wife  into  the  bargain.  Did  the 
Palmetto  State  anticipate  the  recreancy  of  her  son 
to  her  peculiar  institution,  that  while  yet  a  boy  she 
drove  him  forth,  like  Abraham,  not  knowing  whither 
he  went.-*  We  might  permit  ourselves  to  fancy  so; 
but  a  more  rational  explanation  is  at  hand.  The 
nullification  days  had  found  the  father  stanch  and 
strong  for  "liberty  and  union,  one  and  inseparable," 
and  had  convinced  him  that  his  growing  family 
could  be  reared  elsewhere  more  advantageously. 
The  family  life  for  some   years   now  was   more   or 


Life  and  Letters.  145 

less  nomadic ;  but  the  boy  was  gathering  strength 
and  sweetness  all  the  time.  .At  length  the  roof-tree 
was  set  up  at  Waterloo,  in  central  New  York; 
and  here,  ere  Thomas  was  yet  twenty-one,  he  had 
studied  law,  and  pleaded  his  first  case,  and  lost  it. 
Hence  infinite  disgust  with  the  whole  business,  fort- 
unately for  him  and  all  the  rest  of  us.  Behold  him 
ne.xt  an  editor  of  the  county  paper,  and  cutting  it 
away  from  its  allegiance  to  the  Whigs,  to  hoist  the 
flag  of  the  Free-soilers ;  going  to  Worcester  to 
attend  the  first  Free-soil  Convention,  and  hearing 
there  for  the  first  time  the  voice  of  Sumner, —  the 
voice  of  one  crying  in  the  wilderness,  Prepare  ye 
the  way  of  the  Lord,  make  his  paths  straight!  If 
he  was  proud  of  anything,  it  was  that  then  and  there 
he  gave  himself,  with  utter  consecration,  to  the 
cause  of  the  down-trodden  slave.  How  glad  he 
was,  only  a  few  weeks  ago,  to  celebrate  the  anni- 
versary of  that  fateful  day  on  which  the  nation's 
conscience  took  a  new  departure, —  a  small  begin- 
ning of  so  many  vast  and  wonderful  conclusions ! 
But  while  pro-slavery  partisans  were  writing,  "  Stop 
my  paper,"  another  liberty  than  that  of  negro  slaves 
was  beginning  to  engage  his  thought,  and  other 
bonds  than  theirs.  One  of  his  anti-slavery  friends 
was  an  equal  enemy  of  theological  and  negro 
sla\ery.  His  earnestness  was  catching.  The 
young  man  read  his  liberal  books,  and  deeply  pon- 
dered them.  And  pretty  soon  he  made  another 
great  discovery :  a  star  of  the  first  magnitude,  albeit 


146  Thomas  J.  Mumford. 

of  softest  radiance,  in  anti-slavery  and  liberal 
Christian  skies, —  Samuel  J.  May,  whom  ever  after 
he  regarded  with  a  reverence  second  alone  to  that 
he  yielded  to  the  Man  of  Nazareth.  And  when  this 
good  man  died,  it  was  an  easy  thing  for  Mumford  to 
write  his  life ;  for  he  had  only  to  transcribe  it  from 
the  most  secret  tablets  of  his  heart.  Anointed  by 
this  prophet  Samuel  for  a  more  than  regal  dignity, 
the  young  man  went  to  Meadville, —  in  what  spirit  his 
honored  teacher,  Dr.  Stebbins,  told  you  yesterday. 
Two  years  of  earnest  work  and  joy,  and  then  —  the 
harvest  being  white,  the  laborers  few,  in  the  far 
West  of  five-and-twenty  years  ago  —  he  began  his 
ministry  at  Detroit.  There,  for  ten  years,  he  did  a 
work  of  quite  unusual  spiritual  significance.  His 
outspoken  anti-slavery  gospel  eliminated  some  of 
his  parishioners,  but  others  liked  it  well ;  and 
even  among  those  who  liked  it  least  were  some  who 
liked  his  courage,  and  could  not  resist  the  fascina- 
tion of  his  gracious  personality.  Very  beautiful  was 
the  influence  that  he  exerted  in  those  days.  For  the 
first  time,  young  men  and  maidens  found  a  preacher 
who  convinced  them  that  the  religious  life  is  the 
only  life  worth  living, —  the  only  life  that  has  in  it 
any  real  poetry  or  beauty  or  romance.  Then,  too, 
the  sorrow  that  had  come  into  his  own  life  made 
him  more  fit  to  deal  with  kindred  sorrows  in  the 
lives  of  other  men.  The  gentle  wife  who  came  to 
share  his  toil  soon  faded  from  his  side,  and  left  him 
to  pursue  for  many  years  a  sorrowful  and  lonely  way. 


Life  and  Letters.  '     147 

The  Detroit  ministry  bravely  ended,  he  went  to 
Marietta  for  a  year,  jDreaching  with  good  success,  and 
adding  many  to  his  list  of  friends. 

Again  the  lamp  of  love  burned  brightly  in  his 
home,  and  there  was  a  little  child  set  in  the  midst, — 
a  fountain  of  perpetual  solace  and  delight. 

And  then,  one  day,  he  came  and  preached  to  you. 
You  heard  him,  and  were  glad,  and  he  became  your 
minister  ;  and  all  his  happiness  he  shared  with  you, 
and  all  your  sorrows  and  bereavements  he  made  his 
own.  How  good  it  was  to  have  him  in  your  homes, 
illuminating  them  with  his  persistent  cheerfulness 
and  with  his  beautiful  ideals  of  social  and  domestic 
life !  You  know  much  better  than  you  can  be  told 
what  manner  of  life  he  lived  among  you  for  eight 
happy,  blessed  years.  You  have  the  record  of  them 
graven  on  your  hearts.  He  remained  your  minister 
until  his  death,  though  formally  he  ended  his  rela- 
tion with  you  several  years  ago,  in  1872,  and  though 
another  came  to  carry  on  his  work  with  ample  con- 
secration. 

But  there  came  to  him  what  seemed  a  wider 
opportunity.  Had  that  early  year  of  editorial  expe- 
rience bewitched  him  for  all  time.''  Possibly  so. 
At  any  rate,  you  lost  (from  his  official  place)  your 
minister,  and  The  Christian  Register  found  the 
editor  for  whom  it  had  been  waiting  almost  fift}- 
years. 

To  those  who  knew  him  best,  this  abdication  of 
the  pulpit  for  the  editorial  chair  must  have  appeared 
at  least  a  doubtful  venture.     Not  that  they  doubted 


148  Thomas  J.  Miimford. 

his  ability  to  do  the  work  appropriate  to  his  new 
position  with  sufficient  skill ;  he  had  given  proof 
enough  of  this  already,  and  of  his  liking  for  the 
work ;  but  here  was  a  man  who  had  a  very  special 
fitness  for  the  ministry,  not  only  for  its  public  offices, 
but  also  for  its  more  sacred  and  secluded  trusts 
of  pastoral  sympathy  and  consolation.  It  was  as  a 
pastor,  rather  than  as  a  preacher,  that  he  made  full 
proof  of  his  ministry ;  and  herein  there  was  no 
cause  of  grief  or  shame  to  him.  The  necessity  of 
his  nature  corresponded  with  his  sense  of  ideal  fit- 
ness. He  was  what  he  would  be.  Setting  as  high 
a  value  as  any  other  man  upon  the  ministrations  of 
the  pulpit,  he  set  a  yet  higher  value  on  the  friend- 
ship of  the  pastor  with  his  people,  his  personal  rela- 
tions with  them  in  their  various  joys  and  sorrows. 
Who  so  glad  as  he  before  the  marriage  altar,  so  sym- 
pathetic with  the  joy  of  young  hearts  openly  pledged 
to  mutual  fidelities,  or  thrilling  over  the  baptismal 
font  with  the  first  joy  of  parentage.^  Who  more  in 
awe  than  he  of  those  "  blithe  go-betweens "  who 
wed  anew  our  hearts  with  tenderer  and  yet  stronger 
bonds  than  those  we  weave  at  first }  And  who  more 
tender  and  consoling  with  the  bereaved  and  broken- 
hearted .-*  Oh  for  such  tenderness  as  his  to  soothe 
us  in  our  present  sorrow !  But  in  less  formal  and 
more  private  ways  than  any  of  these  sacraments  of 
love  or  birth  or  death  "  he  went  about  doing  good  " 
among  his  people.  His  genial  presence  radiated 
hope  and  cheer.  Well,  then,  might  those  who  knew 
him  best,  and  knew  the  purity  and  sweetness   of  his 


Life  and  Letters.  149 

personal  relations  with  his  people,  fear  for  him,  lest 
his  new  position  should  oblige  him  to  forego  the  use 
of  some  of  his  best  gifts  ;  and  no  doubt  to  some 
extent  their  fears  were  justified;  but  not  entirely. 
"Once  a  bishop,  always  a  bishop,"  say  our  Episcopa- 
lian friends.  Once  a  minister,  always  a  minister, 
was  very  true  of  him.  There  was  never  any  abate- 
ment of  his  joy  in  pulpit  preaching.  As  opportuni- 
ties offered,  he  accepted  them  with  manifest  delight, 
the  happier  if,  doing  so,  he  could  help  some  sick 
or  jaded  fellow-minister  over  a  hard  place.  But  the 
offices  of  pastoral  service  and  of  personal  friendship 
were  much  less  diminished  by  his  new  position 
than  those  of  public  preaching.  His  old  parishioners 
and  their  children  turned  to  him  as  naturally  in 
their  joy  and  sorrow  as  flowers  turn  to  the  sun ; 
and  he  was  always  ready  to  respond.  No  doubt 
there  was  considerable  abridgment  of  his  imme- 
diate personal  contact  with  his  former  people,  for 
the  new  cares  were  terribly  engrossing  ;  but  there 
was  ample  compensation  for  the  loss  in  the  awak- 
ening and  use  of  other  energies  which  had  been  long 
suppressed.  All  that  was  best  in  the  old  life  was 
carried  on  into  the  new.  No  real  friendship  was 
allowed  to  languish ;  and  for  the  new  work  he  dis- 
covered a  surprising  fitness.  Journalism  is  a  sort 
of  pitch  which  it  is  hard  to  touch  without  being 
defiled.  But  for  him  there  was  no  defilement.  The 
dishonest  tricks  by  which  many  others  seek  to  boost 
their  journals  into  successful  notoriety  had  for  him 
no  attractions.     lie  never  forgot  to  credit  what  he 


150  Thomas  J.  Mitinford. 

borrowed  from  his  neighbors.  He  never  promised 
pubHshers  that  their  books  would  be  favorably 
noticed.  He  never  wrote  an  editorial  with  one 
eye  to  the  truth,  the  other  to  his  subscribers.  His 
seed  was  conscience,  and  he  reaped  the  fruit  of  joy. 
He  seldom  rested  from  his  work  ;  but  no  man  ever 
rested  in  his  work  more  perfectly.  His  labors  never 
grew  monotonous.  Ever}'  fresh  number  of  his  paper 
was  a  fresh  experience  to  him,  to  be  made  richer,  if 
possible,  than  any  of  its  predecessors.  And  how 
pleasant  his  relations  were  with  all  his  various 
assistants !  How  proud  he  was  of  his  publisher, 
his  clerks,  his  forewoman,  and  his  compositors, — 
living  examples  of  his  faith  in  women's  wider  use- 
fulness! His  sensibility  was  wonderful.  Often  the 
children's  stories  written  or  selected  for  the  last 
page  of  the  paper  went  to  the  printer  moistened  a 
little  with  his  tears.  I  became  one  of  his  undcr- 
workmen  immediately  on  his  accession  to  the  edito- 
rial chair,  and  never  many  days  went  by  without 
some  word  from  him,  so  warm,  so  bright,  so  full  of 
health  and  cheer,  that  I  cannot  bear  the  thought 
of  never  getting  another  message  from  his  hand. 

I  should  convey  a  very  wrong  impression  if  I  left 
you  to  suppose  that  there  was  no  adulteration  of 
his  joy.  Going  his  own  way,  he  could  not  please 
everybody;  but  it  was  always  hard  for  him  to  wound 
another.  The  fear  of  having  been  or  seemed  unjust 
would  keep  him  from  his  rest  until  the  morning 
broke.  That  incisive  wit  of  his  was,  as  he  knew, 
a  dangerous  weapon.     Often  he  thrust  it  back,  half- 


Life  and  Letters.  151 

drawn,  into  its  sheath.  lUit  how  well  it  served  us 
in  the  day  when  some,  who  did  not  know  in  whom 
they  had  believed,  wanted  a  creed  to  flaunt  at  ortho- 
dox and  infidel!  His  latest  editorials  were  sugu;ested 
by  some  new  appearance  of  this  old  denominational 
ghost ;  only  he  shrank  from  the  necessity  of  striking 
at  it  through  those  for  whom  he  had  the  tendercst 
personal  regard.  "  But  I  shall  do  it,  all  the  same," 
he  said  to  me,  only  a  week  ago.  Small  fear  that 
he  would  put  their  love  for  him  in  jeoj^ardy;  for 
I  have  never  found  him  so  loving  and  so  lovable 
in  all  j^ersonal  relations  as  when  I  have  been  placed 
in  frankest  opposition  to  his  editorial  convictions. 
There  he  stood.  So  help  him  God,  he  could  no 
otherwise.  Rut  his  affections  overleaped  the  line 
of  his  convictions,  and  laughed  a  friendly  challenge 
in  the  face  of  men  whom  he  opposed  with  all  the 
weapons  of  his  wit  and  argument. 

The  essential  quality  of  his  work  as  editor  of  TJie 
CJiristian  Register  was  just  what  it  had  been  as  a 
preacher  of  liberal  Christianity.  He  was  a  preacher 
still, —  only  he  preached,  like  the  first  preacher  of 
Christianity,  sitting  instead  of  standing,  and  to  an 
audience  of  many  thousands  instead  of  to  a  few  hun- 
dreds ;  and  the  sermons  were  his  own  earnest  edi- 
torials, and  the  best  essays,  letters,  and  discussions 
he  could  get  his  busiest  friends  to  write.  How 
magnetic  he  was  to  the  best  things  of  contemporary- 
literature,  secular  or  religious,  sermons  or  hymns  or 
stories, —  whatever  had  the  step  of  progress  or  the 
ring  of  health !     He  never  tried  to  make  his  paper 


1 5  2  Thomas  J.  Mumford. 

more  popular  by  making  it  less  religious.  The  more 
religious  the  better,  so  that  it  was  living  and  human. 
Who  can  estimate  the  good  that  came,  and  will 
yet  come,  of  so  much  faithfulness  and  earnestness .'' 
"How  far  that  little  candle  throws  its  beams!" 
His  sweetest  comfort  was  to  think  that  what  he 
wrote  and  brought  together  was  read  in  hundreds 
of  homes  where  there  was  little  else  to  read.  We 
who  are  gathered  here  are  not  a  tithe  of  all  his 
people.  They  are  scattered  East  and  West,  all  over 
this  whole  land.  Thousands  of  men  and  women,  and 
of  little  children,  if  they  knew  to  what  extent  the 
paper  was  the  coinage  of  his  heart  and  brain,  would 
feel  with  us  to-day  that  they  have  lost  a  friend  of 
rarest  worth. 

A  week  ago,  all  this,  and  promise  of  indefinite 
continuance,  and  now  a  silence  and  a  void  !  Vacant 
the  office-chair!     Idle  the  busy  pen  which 

. .  .  "never  wrote  a  flattery, 
Nor  signed  the  page  that  registered  a  lie." 

The  last  editorial  is  written ;  the  last  breezy  para- 
graph ;  the  last  sparkling  "Brevity."  So  soon  he 
follows  the  beloved  sister,  that  it  is  as  if  she  lin- 
gered on  the  threshold  of  the  heavenly  house,  and 
held  the  door  ajar,  dreading  to  go  alone  into  the 
ineffable  mystery.  I  cannot  make  him  dead.  He 
was  so  full  of  life  that  it  is  quite  impossible  to  think 
of  him  and  death  together.  I  have  never  thought  of 
him  as  dying,  but  I  have  thought  a  hundred  times 
of  his  old  age, —  how  beautiful  it  would  be ;  what  a 


Life  and  Letters.  153 

store  of  precious  memories  he  was  laying  up  for  it ; 
how  he  would  tell  the  children  yet  unborn  (  f  the 
great  anti-slavery  struggle, — "all  of  which  he  saw, 
and  part  of  which  he  was  "  ;  of  Garrison  and  May, 
and  of  the  heroes  of  religious  liberty  whom  he  had 
known  and  loved ;  of  Furness  and  Lucretia  Mott, 
Bartol  and  Clarke,  and  many  another, —  for  our 
friend  had  an  abounding  faith  in  persons  as  the 
forces  by  which  ideas  are  embodied  in  society.  He 
had  great  capacity  for  hero-worship,  and  thought  he 
knew  some  heroes  in  the  flesh.  It  was  his  faith  in 
persons  that  made  the  personality  of  Jesus  such  a 
vital  factor  in  his  personal  experience.  Except 
Dr.  Furness,  I  have  never  known  another  person 
to  whom  Jesus  was  so  real,  —  and  I  might  add,  per- 
haps, or  so  ideal.  Historical  or  not,  the  Jesus  of  his 
thoughts  was  altogether  human,  merciful  and  loving, 
strong  and  just ;  and,  cherishing  this  gracious  image, 
he  grew  more  and  more  into  its  likeness. 

Hard  as  it  is  to  have  him  go  so  soon,  this  sudden 
loss  is  not  without  its  compensations.  Who  knows 
but  that  the  sure  decay  of  age  would  have  so  blurred 
his  mental  aspect  that  we  should  have  forgotten  what 
he  was  when  at  the  top  of  his  condition  }  Now,  when 
we  think  of  him,  it  will  be  always  at  his  best.  This 
is  the  privilege  of  those  who  perish  with  their  nat 
ural  force  yet  unabated.  Moreover,  in  this  sudden, 
swift  transition  of  a  life  equipped  for  every  noblest 
exercise  of  good,  is  there  not  hint  and  prophecy, 
if  not  convincing  argument,  of  the  immortal  life  I 
That  God  can  spare  our  friend  from  this  earth-mote 


154  Thomas  J.  Mnmford. 

that  floats  across  his  sky  I  can  conceive,  although 
I  cannot  think  of  any  man  to  fill  his  place;  but  I 
cannot  conceive  that  God  can  spare  so  good  a  work- 
man from  his  universe.  Somewhere  in  that  I  think, 
and  seem  to  know,  that  our  dear  friend  will  gird  him- 
self ere  long  for  service  in  the  one  great  battle  that 
in  all  worlds  is  always  going  on  between  the  darkness 
and  the  light,  the  evil  and  the  good. 

I  have  been  told  that  on  a  gravestone  in  Mount 
Auburn  it  is  written,  "  She  was  so  pleasant,"  "  He 
was  so  pleasant"  might  be  graven  upon  his,  and  be 
a  better  epitaph  than  the  majority.  Many  a  time 
have  I  been  up  his  winding  stair  for  nothing  but  to 
see  his  kindly  face  and  get  his  happy  greeting.  But 
for  all  his  pleasantness,  there  was  no  lack  in  him 
of  sterling  manliness.  He  was  no  genial  optimist, 
dulled  by  his  own  security  to  all  the  sin  and  sorrow 
of  the  world.  Only  he  knew  he  did  not  fight  a 
losing  battle,  and  that  he  was  enrolled  with  all  the 
best  of  all  the  ages.  In  many  ways,  I  know  the 
world  is  better  for  his  life.  I  also  know  that  it  is 
happier  and  better  upon  this  account,  if  on  no  other. 
Who  could  resist  the  fine  contagion  of  his  cheer- 
fulness .'' 

A  lover  of  all  truth,  a  friend  of  all  good  causes, 
there  was  one  thing  more  characteristic  of  our  friend 
than  any  other :  he  had  a  genius  for  friendship. 
Friends, —  men  and  women,  young  and  old,  black 
and  white,  orthodox  and  heterodox, —  he  had  them 
by  the  dozen.  He  knew  their  birthdays,  and  remem- 
bered them  with  simple  gifts  and  letters,  sweet  and 


Life  and  Letters.  155 

wise.  How  loyal  he  was  to  them, —  once,  I  know, 
blazin-;  right  out  at  some  fine  lady's  table  when 
one  of  them  was  lightly  spoken  of !  Nursed  in  the 
anti-slavery  cradle,  he  knew  the  art  of  righteous 
indignation.  For  all  his  sunny  foliage,  there  was 
no  lack  of  toughness  in  his  grain. 

There  is  a  presence  into  which  I  may  not  follow 
him.  If  he  had  a  genius  for  friendship,  I  think  he 
had  a  rarer  genius  for  domestic  love.  Parents,  wife, 
brothers,  sisters,  child, —  these  were  the  chords  of 
his  experience  that  gave  out  the  sweetest  music. 
He  used  to  write  their  birthdays,  and  the  days  of 
their  re-birth  into  the  life  to  come,  upon  his  letters 
to  me,  as  saints'  days  quite  as  good  as  any  that  the 
calendar  can  show.  He  used  to  speak  of  them  with 
glistening  eyes  and  accents  softly  hushed.  And  so 
it  was,  although  I  knew  him  well,  I  came  to  feel  that 
I  had  never  got  beyond  the  outer  temple  of  his 
spirit,  and  that  there  was  an  inner  temple  very  calm 
and  holy,  sacred  to  the  most  close  and  ])cautiful 
affections  of  his  heart. 

So  much  engrossed  in  his  official  cares,  wc  might 
have  pardoned  him  if  he  had  been  forgetful  of  a 
hundred  little  things  on  which  the  pleasantness  of 
life  depends.  But  of  these  things  he  was  not  for- 
getful ;  he  attended  to  them  as  if  he  were  a  man 
of  leisure.  God  does  not  always  spoil  his  tools  in 
using  them.  Here  was  one  with  which  he  cut  off 
many  a  parasitic  growth,  and  hewed  a  broader  path 
through  theological  obstructions,  where  two,  though 
not  agreed,  might  walk  together  and  abreast.     But 


156  TJiomas  J.  Miimford. 

in  the  process  it  lost  nothing  of  the  keenness  of 
its  edge,  the  temper  of  its  metal.  The  man  —  the 
father,  husband,  brother,  friend  —  was  never  swamped 
by  the  official  minister  or  editor.  A  purely  business 
relation  with  others,  or  of  employer  and  employed, 
was  never  to  his  taste.  As  soon  as  possible  he  con- 
verted it  into  something  better, —  something  less 
mechanical  and  more  human.  If  it  be  true  that  a 
great  business  is  a  great  machine,  he  never  could 
have  run  a  great  business.  Clerks  and  assistants 
without  individuality  }  —  mere  cogs  in  a  wheel  1  He 
never  could  have  suffered  any  such  relation  between 
himself  and  others. 

There  are  many  would-be  religious  people  who 
have  a  good  deal  of  piety  but  no  morality,  and  others 
who  have  much  morality  and  very  little  piety.  But 
in  him  the  poles  of  piety  and  morality  both  appeared. 
A  righteous  man,  he  did  not  save  his  conscience  up 
for  great  occasions,  but  put  it  into  every  least  detail 
of  his  habitual  work.  For  every  item  in  his  paper, 
due  credit  must  be  given.  Not  a  word  must  be 
changed  in  a  contributor's  article  without  his  con- 
sent. He  ventured  upon  no  improvements,  either 
of  theology  or  style.  He  was  a  righteous  man,  and 
he  was  a  constant  worshipper.  He  did  not  save 
his  worship  up  for  great  occasions,  any  more  than 
his  conscience ;  it  was  the  natural  pulsation  of  his 
heart,  responding  to  the  daily  beauty  of  the  world, 
the  tenderness  of  flowers,  the  green  of  grass  and 
trees,  the  splendors  of  the  mountains  and  the  stars, 
the  faces  of  the  men  and  women  whom   he  loved. 


Life  and  Letters.  157 

I  trust  that  I  have  named  aright  some  of  the  more 
salient  characteristics  of  our  friend.  But  salient  is 
not  the  word.  Nothing  stuck  out.  His  various 
traits  were  all  harmoniously  blended  into  a  living 
unity.  A  certain  falseness  naturally  attaches  to  any 
analysis  of  such  a  character  as  his  :  the  whole  is 
greater  than  the  sum  of  all  its  parts.  All  our  analy- 
sis is  made  ashamed,  as  wc  recall  the  vital  synthesis 
which  was  the  man  who  loved  us, —  whom  wc  knew 
and  loved  so  well. 

If  any  one  should  say,  "  Yes,  but  he  had  his  faults, 
like  all  the  rest  of  us,"  I  surely  should  not  con- 
tradict him.  Doubtless  he  had,  and  some  of  them 
I  could  perhaps  enumerate.  Now  and  then,  his 
lively  wit  got  the  better  of  his  discretion.  The 
wonder  was,  it  didn't  do  it  oftener.  Considering 
the  metal  of  the  beast,  he  kept  her  well  in  hand ; 
she  didn't  often  run  away  with  him.  Many  a  witty 
brevity  was  sacrificed,  lest  it  should  hurt  the  victim 
more  than  it  would  help  the  truth.  The  last  time  I 
saw  him,  two  or  three  days  before  his  death,  it  was 
with  the  gleam  of  one  of  these  suppressed  brevities 
in  his  merry  eye.  But  sometimes  his  righteous  in- 
dignation left  him  no  resource  but,  like  his  Master 
in  the  desecrated  temple,  to  peel  the  culprit's 
shoulders  with  the  toughest  whip  that  he  could 
braid  of  all  his  sinewy  gifts  of  ridicule  and  scorn. 
Should  any  say,  "  But  his  judgments  were  often 
erroneous,"  I  should  answer,  No,  not  often;  very 
seldom,  when  we  consider  of  how  many  things  he 
had  to   judge.      And   where   it   seemed    to  me   his 


158  Thomas  J.  Miunford. 

judgment  faltered  most,  it  was  because  the  ineffable 
joy,  which  his  spiritual  emancipation  up  to  a  certain 
point  awakened  in  his  heart,  held  him  forever  in 
that  first  estate  of  freedom,  and  did  not  permit  him 
to  achieve  a  freedom  more  complete. 

But  why  should  I  apologize  for  him  who  was  so 
good  and  true,  so  brave  and  sweet,  and  whom  a 
friendly  word  could  turn  at  once  from  any  course 
where  conscience  did  not  drive  him  on  ?  Let  us 
thank  God,  dear  friends,  that  we  have  known  and 
loved  so  good  and  great  a  friend,  and  that  he  gave 
us  of  his  love  so  largely  in  return.  Sorrowing  most 
of  all  that  we  shall  see  his  face  no  more,  let  us 
remember  well  the  gracious  beauty  of  his  life,  and 
try  to  win  a  kindred  beauty  for  our  own.  And  let 
us  show  our  gratitude  to  him  by  doing  kindly  offices 
for  those  he  loved  the  most, —  in  comforting  each 
other  by  recalling  all  his  pleasant  ways  and  his 
"hope  full  of  immortality  "  ;  by  new  fidelity  to  every 
cause  that  makes  for  human  good.  O  friends !  it 
will  be  better  with  us  till  the  very  end,  if  any  end 
there  be,  that  we  have  had  this  dear  companion, 

"  O  days  and  hours  I  your  work  is  this : 
To  hold  us  in  our  proper  place, 
A  little  while  from  his  embrace, 
For  fuller  gain  of  after  bliss. 

"That  out  of  distance  may  ensue 
Desire  of  nearness  doubly  sweet ; 
And  unto  meeting,  when  we  meet, 
Delight  a  hundred-fold  accrue." 


XV. 

PERSONAL  TRIBUTES. 

The  poem  and  papers  which  follow  were  printed  in  The 
Christian  Register  shortly  after  Mr.  Mumford's  death,  and 
are  reproduced  without  material  change:  — 

LIFTED  UP. 

O  spirit  so  gentle  and  strong, 

And  fair  with  an  honor  unpriced  ! 
So  swerveless  to  shadow  of  wrong, 

Yet  kind  with  the  kindness  of  Christ! 

O  heart  great  with  brotherly  love  I 

O  thought  swift  with  help  and  with  cheer  f 

O  life  hidden  holy  above, 
Yet  lowly  and  diligent  here  I 

O  friend  whom  no  moment  did  miss, 
Of  need,  where  thy  comfort  could  be  I 

What  hand  shall  uphold  us  in  this, 
And  who  shall  console  us  for  thee? 

We  follow.     We  follow,  and  go 
Where  the  Saviour  went  up  with  the  three. 

And  the  glory  of  heaven  did  show 
On  the  mountain  in  Galilee. 


l6o  TJionias  J.  Mumford. 

And,  living,  we  see  thee  stand, 

As  Elijah  and  Moses  stood, 
At  the  living  Lord's  right  hand. 

In  the  shining  of  angelhood. 

And  we  know  that  the  hills  of  God 

Slope  down  from  their  uppermost  height. 

With  the  pathways,  messenger-trod. 
Into  our  sorrow  and  night. 

O  spirit  most  gentle  and  strong, 

Most  ready  with  service  unpriced  ! 
Brave  for  us  against  our  own  wrong, 

And  kind  with  the  kindness  of  Christ ! 

Great  heart,  and  pure  life,  and  swift  thought  I 

Ye  do  kindle  and  move  for  us  yet ! 
The  friendship  that  earth  hath  so  wrought 

Eternity  will  not  forget  1 

No  moment  thy  comfort  shall  miss, — 

No  need,  where  thy  comfort  can  be ! 
Thy  love  holdeth  steadfast  through  this, — 

Thyself  shall  console  us  for  thee  ! 

A.  D.  T.  Whitney. 


It  hints  the  immortality  of  character,  that  we  first, 
over  one's  mortal  remains,  try  to  figure  completely  to 
ourselves  what  sort  of  a  man  he  was.  As  his  body 
lies  in  its  coffin,  his  soul  sits  for  its  photograph.  We 
are  Instructed  by  any  distinct  impression  of  a  fellow- 
creature;    but  no  human   being  in   life   can    confer 


Life  and  Letters.  i6r 

benefit  beyond  making  the  stamp  of  virtue  and 
honor  after  he  is  gone.  Our  Brother  Mumford  will 
be  remembered,  by  all  who  knew  him,  as  a  Christian 
without  ecjuix'ocation,  and  in  whatever  good  meaning, 
above  the  articles  of  any  creed  that  term  may  bear. 
He  seemed  to  me  always  keeping  himself  clean 
from  any  taint  in  act  or  thought.  His  moral  sense 
was  ever  in  motion,  sweeping  the  chambers  of  his 
heart  of  the  dust  which  others,  of  conscience  less 
nice,  neither  saw  in  him,  nor  might  be  conscious  of 
in  themselves.  How  humane  he  was,  appeared,  not 
only  in  his  witness  against  slavery,  but  in  his  advo- 
cacy of  what  seemed  to  him  the  rights,  and  his 
indignation  at  all  the  wrongs,  of  mankind.  I  admired 
his  earnestness,  and  the  ethical  heat  which  passes 
with  sinners  for  ill-blood,  but  is  only  a  spark  of  the 
wrath  of  God.  He  had  a  humor  sometimes  grim, 
almost,  as  that  of  Rabelais ;  but  a  heart  of  love 
throbbed  under  every  stroke  of  arch  banter  and 
occasional  touch  of  even  biting  wit.  One's  daily 
companions  find  him  out ;  and,  beside  the  house  he 
has  left  full,  not  of  shadow,  but  of  light,  no  official 
director  was  ever  by  his  co-workers  more  liked. 
Indeed,  his  combined  good-temper  and  prompt  organ- 
izing facility  would  have  fitted  him  for  any  station 
of  chief  importance  in  the  duties  of  that  supreme 
modern  estate  of  the  press.  My  testimony  will  not 
lose,  if  it  have  any  worth,  from  the  fact  that  on  some 
vital  matters  of  denominational  wisdom  and  eccle- 
siastical dignity  and  discipline  he  differed  with  me 
in  opinion,  resisted  my  counsel,  and  went   the  way 


1 62  Thomas  J.  ]\Iumford. 

which  I  have  no  question  was  pure  and  right  to  him, 
his  personal  qualities  always  mightily  backing  his 
editorial  weight.  If  his  conviction,  however,  on  any 
point  changed,  I  always  in  conversation  found  him 
ready  to  confess  it  frankly  and  simply  as  a  child. 
There  is  no  greater  test  of  intellectual  honesty  and 
a  sweet  disposition  than  to  conduct  a  paper  and 
address  a  divided  constituency  about  all  partisan 
and  public  affairs.  He  is  noble  who  can  justly  face 
that  vast  audience  commanded  by  the  silent  pen, 
which  is  louder,  to-day,  than  any  gun.  Ingenuous 
and  unsoured  in  every  word,  he,  that  summoned  us 
so  fairly,  goes  to  his  own  account. 

Cyrus  A.  Bartol. 


The  ancient  Scots,  when  they  passed  the  grave 
of  one  honored  and  beloved,  laid  a  stone  upon  the 
grave;  and  so  arose  those  cairns  that  make  a  touch- 
ing feature  of  Scotland.  It  is  a  sorrowful  satisfaction 
to  bring  my  word  of  loving  memory,  and  lay  it  upon 
the  grave  of  our  dear  Mr.  Mumford. 

He  has  been  so  rich  a  blessing  to  me  that  I  love 
to  think  of  the  circumstances,  and  the  hand  of  Prov- 
idence in  them,  which  brought  him  to  us.  He  was 
born  in  South  Carolina.  Between  thirty  and  forty 
years  ago,  his  family  came  and  made  their  home  in 
Central  New  York.  The  father's  health  was  broken, 
I  suppose  by  the  Southern  climate,  and  he  died 
some  thirty  years  ago.     Thomas  was  the  eldest  of 


Life  and  Letters.  165 

the  little  band  of  brothers  and  sisters,  and  in  beau- 
tiful fidelity  he  stood  by  his  mother  when  his  youth 
was  opening  into  manhood.  She  was  a  sweety 
saintly  woman ;  and  Thomas,  at  twenty-one,  was 
husband  and  son  to  her,  and  father  and  brother  to 
the  little  ones.  He  was  helpful  in  every  way ;  and 
interesting  it  is  to  know  that  his  rare  genius  as 
an  editor  broke  out  thus  early,  and  he  became  the 
editor  of  the  county  paper  published  in  Seneca 
Falls,  N.Y. 

Worshipping  with  his  mother  in  the  Episcopal 
church,  he  was  very  intimate  in  the  family  of  the 
rector, —  the  venerable  Mr.  Wheeler.  His  mind  was 
awake,  and  in  his  search  for  light  he  obtained  some 
of  Dr.  Channing's  writings  on  slavery.  He  read 
and  pondered,  and  rose  up  an  anti-slavery  man. 
And  then  he  read  more  of  Channing's  writings,  and 
began  to  doubt  about  what  he  had  supposed  to  be 
the  pillar  and  ground  of  faith ;  and  at  this  time, 
meeting  with  our  saintly  Samuel  J.  May,  he  was 
brought  into  new  life,  and  at  once  began  to  leave  the 
old,  and  seek  the  new.  And  now  we  see  him  at 
Buffalo,  one  Sunday  morning,  worshipping  God  for 
the  first  time  with  a  Unitarian  congregation,  and 
listening  to  a  Unitarian  minister.  Then  he  went  to 
the  Meadvillc  Theological  School,  and  then  to 
Detroit  as  the  minister  of  a  new  Unitarian  church: 
and  there  he  made  his  home ;  and  there  he  lost  his 
young  wife  ;  and  there  his  mother  and  brothers  and 
sisters  came  to  him  ;  and  that  sweet  home  of  Detroit,, 
there  are  many  who  will  never  forget. 


164  TJiomas  J.  Mumford. 

The  young  parish  grew  in  strength  and  grace, 
loving  their  minister  with  rare  devotedness.  But 
he  labored  too  hard  ;  his  health  suffered.  He  was 
obliged  to  leave  Detroit  after  eight  years  of  apos- 
tolic fidelity ;  and  then  he  went  to  Marietta,  Ohio,  in 
hope  that  a  more  southern  climate  would  favor  him  : 
but  there,  too,  strength  failed,  and  he  came  to  New 
England,  to  Dorchester,  and  then  to  the  chair  of  The 
Chris tia7i  Register.     His  work  is  done. 

"  Servant  of  God,  well-done ; 
Rest  from  thy  loved  employ." 

Oh,  how  we  shall  miss  this  dear  friend  !  He  was  so 
loving,  so  sympathetic !  With  a  rare  tact  he  came 
right  into  our  hearts,  with  a  sweet  presence  of  cheer, 
comfort,  and  inspiration.  No  other  man  I  have  ever 
known  gave  himself  to  others  as  he  did.  When  I 
went  to  his  house,  after  he  was  gone,  I  found  that 
the  conductor  of  the  car  and  laborers  at  the  wayside 
counted  him  their  friend,  and  were  all  mourning  his 
departure.  Said  a  poor  man  who  had  felt  his  good- 
ness :  "  He  was  next  to  God  and  the  Master." 

How  we  all  shall  miss  his  weekly  visit  in  The 
Christian  Register,  coming  with  wise,  cheery  words, 
witty  brilliancies,  loyalty  to  truth,  knightly  courage, 
and  generous,  loving  conciliation  ! 

In  all  our  churches,  along  the  valleys  and  upon 
the  hills  of  New  England,  there  will  be  a  sense  of 
great  loss.  He  moved  among  us  with  such  unosten- 
tatious simplicity  that  now  we  are  surprised  to  find 
how  much  we  have  lost.     He  was  so  earnest  and 


Life  and  Letters.  165 

loving   that    men   of    all    shades    of    opinion    loved 
and  trusted  liim. 

At  fifty-one,  in  the  high  noon  of  his  beautiful 
ministry,  he  has  gone  from  earth ;  but  his  sunset 
here  is  sunrise  in  blessed  immortality.  Death  is 
swallowed  up  in  life ! 

"  O  spirit,  freed  from  earth, 
Rejoice:  thy  work  is  done! 
The  weary  world's  beneath  thy  feet, 
Thou  brighter  than  the  sun  1 " 

George  W.  Hosmer. 


In  the  year  1854,  the  Western  Conference  met  at 
Louisville.  The  session  was  one  of  intense  interest. 
Nearly  all  of  the  churches  of  the  Conference  were 
represented,  some  of  them  by  large  numbers.  Many 
brethren  from  the  East  were  also  present;  and 
seldom,  if  ever,  was  there  a  more  delightful  reunion 
of  Unitarian  Christians, —  one  marked  by  greater  ear- 
nestness, profoundcr  reverence,  warmer  love,  heartier 
good-will.  Our  dear  Brother  Mumford  was  one  of 
the  delegates  to  the  Conference.  He  was  the  guest 
of  a  true  and  noble  Kentucky  woman,  who  was  more 
than  delighted  to  welcome  him  to  her  home  ;  for 
she  was  a  lover  of  freedom,  and  she  had  learned 
with  admiration  of  his  whole-souled  devotion  to  the 
great  cause.  Like  him,  too,  she  had  been  led  by 
deep  personal  conviction  from  another  church  into 
the  Unitarian  communion.  They  were  thus  well-pre- 
pared, religiously  as  well  as  humanely,  for  thorough 


1 66  Thomas  J.  Mwnford. 

sympathy;  and  the  first  grasp  of  hands  revealed  each 
to  the  other  as  a  true  and  enduring  friend.  Their 
friendsliip  was  at  once  marked  and  hallowed  by 
fragrance,  as  of  precious  spikenard,  through  their 
union  in  a  work  of  practical  beneficence.  She  had 
recently  emancipated  and  sent  to  Detroit  a  young 
man  and  woman,  in  whose  welfare  she  requested 
him  to  be  interested. 

None  that  knew  our  brother  need  to  be  told  how 
prompt  his  heart's  response  was  to  such  a  request, 
and  how  faithful  he  proved  to  the  sacred  trust.  In 
such  service  his  great,  warm  heart  delighted ;  for  he 
was  not  one  of  the  kind  who  make  ever  so  much  of 
freedom  and  humanity  in  the  abstract,  and  are  quite 
indifferent  to  the  freedom  and  happiness  of  indi- 
vidual men,  but  he  rejoiced  in  making  the  ideal 
personally  concrete  and  real. 

How  true  he  was  to  his  high  ideal, — how  obedient, 
in  little  things,  no  less  than  in  great,  to  the  heavenly 
vision !  How  beautiful  the  union  in  him  of  sweet- 
ness and  strength !  "  Strength  and  beauty  are  in 
thy  sanctuary,  O  Lord ! "  How  brave  he  was,  and 
how  gentle  and  tender, —  firm  as  the  firmest,  and  so 
loving!  And  how  wise  a  man  he  was, —  clear,  keen, 
yet  broad  in  thought,  quick  in  insight,  sound  and 
well-balanced  in  judgment,  just  and  catholic  in 
spirit !  Personally  how  magnetic,  drawing  to  him- 
self men  of  most  varied  temperaments  and  of  widely- 
differing  thought, —  often  drawing  them  close  to 
himself  at  first  meeting,  and  keeping  them  ever 
after  near  in  fond  and  warm  friendship. 


Life  and  Letters.  167 

It  is  the  aim  and  boast  of  much  of  modern  jour- 
nalism that  it  is  completely  impersonal.  The  great 
charm  of  the  Register  was  that  it  was  thoroughly 
personal, —  that  it  was  pervaded,  permeated  in  all 
its  departments,  by  a  personality  so  living  and  so 
genial  that  it  made  itself  felt  wherever  manifested, 
—  whether  in  terse  and  pithy  brevities,  in  keen  com- 
ments, in  witty  rejoinders,  in  humorous  pleasantries* 
or  in  compact,  thought-laden,  weighty,  but  never 
heavy  editorials, —  as  the  presence  of  a  bright,  strong, 
helpful  friend.  It  was  the  permeation  of  the  paper 
by  this  winning  personality  which  made  it,  not  only 
interesting,  but  also  dear,  to  so  many  of  its  readers. 

"  Oh  for  the  touch  of  a  vanished  hand  I 
And  the  sound  of  a  voice  that  is  still." 

To  go  one  day  to  that  editorial  room,  and  see  there 
the  radiant  face  and  receive  the  warm  grasp,  and 
on  the  next  visit  to  find  funereal  crape  on  the  closed 
and  locked  door ! —  this  is  one  of  earth's  saddest, 
most  startling  experiences.  It  tells  us,  and  most 
impressively,  of  death  ;  but,  thanks  to  the  ever-living 
God  and  his  great  revealings,  it  does  not  tell  us  of 
our  friend's  death.  Such  a  friend,  so  overflowing 
with  life,  like  Milton's  angels,  "  vital  in  every  part," 
cannot  die.  He  cannot  but  live,  and  live  forever, 
and  be  forever  earnestly  and  lovingly  employed  in 
beneficent  activity  in  some  part  of  our  Father's 
house  of  many  mansions. 

John  H.  Hevwood. 

September  4,  1S77. 


1 6S  Thomas  J.  JMiimford. 

It  is  not  yet  four  days  since  his  body  was  laid  in 
the  grave,  where  it  must  return  to  the  dust  as  it 
was  ;  and  for  those  who  intimately  knew  Thomas  J. 
Mumford,  and  who  fondly  loved  him,  it  cannot  now 
l)e  easy  to  do  anything  but  sigh  forth  the  ancient 
lament,  Alas,  my  brother !  in  the  tender  privacy  of 
a  grief  unspoken  and  unspeakable. 

But  it  seems  fitting  indeed  that  a  memorial  ser- 
vice should  be  held  in  the  columns  of  The  Christian 
Register,  so  lately  and  so  long  the  scene  of  his  wise 
and  faithful  work.  Among  his  twenty  thousand 
readers,  a  vast  and  widely-scattered  multitude  will 
count  his  death  a  personal  bereavement,  as  well  as 
a  public  loss,  and  will  accept  this  number  of  the 
paper  as  permitting  them  to  share,  in  some  sort,  the 
mournful  privilege  of  being  present  at  his  funeral. 
This  public  testimonial  to  the  dead  becomes  a  most 
truly  religious  service  to  the  living,  since  it  enforces 
the  lessons  and  consecrates  the  memory  of  a  beau- 
tiful and  useful  life.  Let  us  unite  in  glorifying  God 
who  hath  given  such  power  unto  men. 

Now,  too,  the  man  —  hitherto  somewhat  hidden 
behind  the  editor  —  comes  out  in  full  view,  and  we 
realize  the  personal  qualities  which  made  an  imper- 
sonal work  so  rare  and  excellent ;  for  there  was  a 
subtle  aroma  in  his  spirit  which  constantly  exhaled 
through  these  columns,  and  made  the  paper  a  wel- 
come visitor  to  thousands  of  households,  over  and 
above  its  high  value  as  a  medium  of  intelligence, 
a  messenger  of  truth,  and  a  champion  of  right- 
eousness. 


Life  and  Letters.  169 

It  was  the  wish  of  Samuel  J.  May  —  whose  biog- 
raphy by  Mr.  Mumford  is  one  of  our  fountains  of 
refreshment  —  that  journalists  mi_i;ht  be  ordained  to 
their  work  like  ministers  of  religion ;  and  surely,  in 
our  friend's  case,  the  substance  of  such  ordination 
was  not  wanting  :  for  he  was  born  to  the  work,  and 
prepared  for  it  by  the  whole  succession  of  his  expe- 
riences. He  loved  it,  and  was  happy  in  it.  In  it  he 
lived  and  moved  and  had  his  being  ;  yet  without 
being  narrowed  thereby,  since  his  sympathies  ever 
grew  more  expansive,  his  vision  more  wide  and 
clear,  and  his  judgment  of  large  world-affairs  less 
and  less  limited  by  function  and  profession. 

His  weakest  side  was  in  over-appreciating  his 
friends,  and  undervaluing  himself.  He  once  wrote 
to  a  friend,  "  I  think  I  should  trust  you  absolutely, 
even  if  you  sometimes  felt  bound,  by  your  love  for 
me  and  for  the  truth  and  the  right,  to  give  me  blows 
that  draw  blood.  But  when  you  can  be  encouraging, 
it  helps  me  to  overcome  a  morbid  self-distrust  which 
has  dogged  me  through  life, —  sometimes  nearly 
ruining  me." 

But  he  might  well  have  gloried  in  his  infirmities, 
for  a  divine  strength  was  made  perfect  in  weakness  : 
his  moral  nature  was  like  an  immovable  pillar  at  the 
centre  of  his  being ;  his  hatred  of  cowardice,  im- 
purity, falsehood,  and  dishonesty  was  the  only  hatred 
of  which  he  was  capable.  If  he  sometimes  hesitated 
to  trust  the  verdict  of  his  own  faculties,  he  never 
hesitated  to  obey  his  conscience,  regardless  of  cost ; 


1 70  Thomas  J.  Mimiford. 

and  I  never  met  a  man  who  seemed  more  free  from 
every  sort  of  guile. 

He  was  a  good  fighter  against  what  he  deemed  to 
be  evil,  and  he  kept  his  weapons  bright ;  but  every 
blow  was  for  the  good  old  cause  of  God  and  the 
right.  His  paragraphs  were  sometimes  thought 
prickly  or  severe ;  but  there  was  not  a  drop  of 
venom  or  corrosive  acid  in  his  composition.  His 
sense  of  the  ludicrous  kept  such  close  company  with 
his  love  of  truth  and  disgust  at  shams  that  he  could 
never  refrain  from  puncturing  any  bubble  of  pre- 
tence in  literature  or  in  society,  in  statesman  or  in 
churchman.  His  wit  sparkled  like  that  of  the  dia- 
mond, because  it  must ;  and  it  cut  sharply  like  the 
diamond,  for  the  same  reason.  And  who  of  us  could 
now  wish  that  these  fine  angles  had  been  ground  off 
to  make  him  blandly  commonplace,  or  smoothly 
round  as  a  glass  bead }  Now  that  his  day's  work  is 
done,  it  looks  large  and  handsome.  He  wrought  for 
us  all,  and  we  are  all  his  debtors. 

Ah  well!  our  brave  comrade-in-arms  —  a  loyal 
soldier  who  knew  but  one  Commander  —  has  fallen 
on  the  field ;  and  what  remains  but  that  we  close  up 
the  ranks  and  push  on  the  battle,  building  his  best 
monument  in  our  hearts  by  our  fresh  vows  of  fidelity 
to  the  holy  cause  for  which  he  gave  his  life.'^ 

But  he  did  not  much  believe  in  dying.  With 
almost  womanly  sensibility  to  every  form  of  human 
sorrow,  he  had  an  inspired  faculty  of  giving  comfort, 
and  looked  straight   through  the   transparent  phan- 


Life  and  Letters.  171 

torn  we  call  Death,  and  saw  beyond  only  Life, 
lengthening  out  and  stretching  away  into  an  ever- 
lasting future.  His  passionate  yearning  for  human 
love  and  spiritual  fellowship  seemed  to  find  its 
highest  satisfaction  in  looking  to  the  time  when  he 
should  go  over  to  the  majority,  and  find  in  the  land 
immortal  the  gathering-place  of  friends. 

He  had  no  difficulty  in  calling  God  a  person.  He 
confidingly  took  the  hand  of  Jesus  as  a  noble  elder 
brother,  who  could  lead  him  to  better  acquaintance 
with  the  Father ;  and  he  was  a  devoted  believer  in 
what  he  called  Unitarian  Christianity,  because  it 
stood  to  him  as  the  God-given  charter  of  human 
freedom,  the  God-given  revelation  of  pure  reason, 
and  the  God-given  pledge  of  everlasting,  all- 
including,  all-victorious  love.  For  the  final  deliv- 
erance of  humanity  into  the  glorious  liberty  of  the 
sons  of  God,  and  for  the  safety  of  his  own  soul,  he 
had  no  misgiving ;  and  we  may  be  sure  he  has  vent- 
ured away  into  the  boundless  mystery  with  the 
living  faith  of  Christ  in  his  heart, —  "  I  am  not  alone, 
for  the  Father  is  with  me." 

Charles  G.  Ames. 

Gekmantown,  Pa.,  Sept.  3,  1S77. 


It  is  in  no  spirit  of  eulogy  that  I  speak  of  my 
friend,  for  I  would  not  offend  his  modest  spirit 
in  death  more  than  in  life ;  yet  the  spontaneous 
incense  of  love  that  bursts  forth  at  the  mention  of 
his  name  would  have  been  so  grateful  to  his  affec- 
tionate  heart    that    it   cannot    be   wholly    withheld. 


172  TJiomas  J.  Mumford. 

Admirable  as  were  the  pungency  of  his  wit,  his 
clear  good-sense,  his  command  of  language,  he  will 
be  most  fondly  remembered  for  his  ample,  tender, 
human  heart,  which  took  to  its  sheltering  folds  the 
obscure,  despised,  and  self-forsaken. 

Of  so  high-tone  and  pure  a  nature  that  some  one 
has  said,  "  He  has  not  left  on  the  earth  so  good  a 
man  as  himself"  ;  so  little  self-asserting  that,  though 
"he  never  did  the  wrong  thing,  he  was  always  as 
meek  and  gentle  as  if  he  had  "  ;  stern  in  j-^r^-demand, 
full  of  melting  charity  to  others'  weakness,  boiling 
with  indignation  at  injustice  to  the  helpless,  forgiv- 
ing of  personal  offence,  the  peer  of  all  who  were 
manly,  yet  permeated  with  such  sympathetic  chiv- 
alry that  every  woman  was  his  friend,  with  his 
genius  for  friendship, —  one  cannot  think  of  him  as 
enjoying  solitary  bliss,  or,  by  a  change  of  worlds, 
being  separated  from  what  was  his  native  clime 
here, —  the  loving,  needing,  human  heart. 

At  times  it  seemed  as  if  the  wide-spread  craving 
for  his  sympathy  in  affliction  was  too  severe  a 
drain  on  his  tasked  brain  and  busy  life ;  but  his 
feet  were  always  swift  and  his  tender  voice  ready 
for  the  mourner's  call.  Who  that  ever  heard  will 
ever  forget  the  appropriate  hymn  of  his  faithful 
memory,  or  the  rapt  prayer  in  which  time  and  sense 
and  woe  vanished,  and  only  the  dutifulness  of  the 
child  and  the  Fatherliness  of  God  remained  ? 

Never  satisfied  with  himself  as  a  preacher,  even 
Ids  humility  was  not  proof  against  the  happy  retro- 
spect of  his  devoted  pastoral  service. 


Life  and  Letters.  173 

His  loss  to  our  denomination  as  a  journalist  seems 
irremediable  ;  for,  witli  a  sound  Christian  faith,  he 
had  a  most  catholic  spirit,  and  was  respected  and 
beloved  alike  by  radical  and  conservative.  But  his 
healthy,  wholesome  nature  would  be  the  first  to 
rebuke  our  faint-heartedness,  and  to  reverently  sa\', 
"My  Father's  cup, —  shall  I  not  drink  it  ?  And, 
dear  human  friends,  if  there  was  any  virtue  in  my 
life,  let  it  blossom  afresh  from  the  dust  in  yours." 

Elizabeth  P.  Channing. 


...  It  was  a  sad  shock  to  learn  of  our  Brother 
Mumford's  death,  that  I  have  scarcely  £,^ot  over  yet. 
He  was  so  genuinely  honest,  so  fair-minded,  and  so 
sweet  in  spirit !  Strange  that  some  misinterpreted 
his  playful  wit  as  having  more  gall  than  honey  in  it. 
It  must  hav^e  been  because  they  only  read  him,  and 
that  occasionally.  Those  who  were  with  him  more 
knew  better.  Even  I  was  with  him  enough  to  knoiv 
it  was  a  mistake.  He  was  as  lovely  a  man,  of  as 
modest  a  disposition,  as  gentle  a  spirit,  and  yet  of  as 
brave  a  heart,  as  ever  I  met.  He  was  too  merciful 
to  be  unjust,  and  too  just  to  be  unmerciful.  The 
first  time  I  ever  saw  him  he  was  standing  up  in  the 
Western  Conference  at  Detroit,  fifteen  years  ago, 
pleading  in  his  quiet  way  for  "death  to  slavery  and 
mercy  to  the  South";  and  in  that  speech,  while 
pleading  for  the  poor  slave,  he  spoke  so  kindly  of 
the  slaveholder  as  a  victim  of  circumstances  —  to 
be  pitied,  rather  than  as  a  man  to  be  hated  —  that 


1 74  Thomas  J.  Minnford. 

one  brother  was  provoked  to  criticise  him  in  no  very 
kind  spirit  or  manner,  as  I  thought.  I  expected  that 
Mr.  Mumford  would  rise,  at  the  conclusion  of  this 
attack,  and  retort  rather  severely ;  but  was  surprised 
to  find  that  he  said  not  a  word,  only  shghtly  bowing 
his  head  and  smiling  genially,  while  the  Conference 
proceeded  as  if  everybody  were  happy.  It  was  a 
novel  experience  to  a  Southern  Illinoisan,  who  had 
been  accustomed  to  the  bitterest  harangues  for  or 
against  slaveholders  as  a  class  ;  but  it  was  an  expe- 
rience that  has  helped  me  to  be  a  wiser  and  less 
harmful  advocate  of  reform.  Brother  Mumford  was 
looking  much  more  pale  and  careworn  then  than 
when,  a  little  over  a  year  since,  I  bade  him  farewell 
at  his  office  in  Boston.  It  seems  but  a  little  while 
ago  that  we  met  for  the  first  time  in  conference ;  it 
was  when  Dr.  Hosmer  prayed,  and  Charles  G.  Ames 
gave  me  the  charge,  and  Mumford  gave  me  that 
warm  right  hand  of  fellowship  to  the  Christian  min- 
istry, in  the  Unitarian  church  at  Detroit,  Sunday 
evening,  June  22,  1862;  and  now,  of  the  men  that 
were  in  that  Conference,  as  I  recollect,  Ichabod 
Codding,  another  noble  fellow,  and  Thomas  J.  Mum- 
ford are  gone ;  and  many  more  friends  have  since 
then  joined  the  innumerable  throng.  It  makes  one 
feel  lonely  to  think  of  it.  But  we  will  not  say 
good-night,  hoping  in  some  brighter  clime  to  say 
good-morning. 

I  have  read  the  Register  more  regularly  than  any 
other  periodical  for  a  dozen  years,  and  in  looking 
over  my  scrap-books  find  that  they  are  almost  filled 


Life  and  Letters.  175 

with    it.     I   have  one   book   of   the    "  Pleasantries," 

labelled  "  Medieine  for  Low  Spirits,"  because    they 

have  been  this  to  me  very  often. 

Jasper  L.  Douthit. 
Shf.lbyvili-e,  III.,  Nov.  8,  1S77. 


The  character-portraits  of  Mr.  Mumford  in  the 
Register,  drawn  by  so  many  loving  hands,  have  left 
little  to  be  added  by  other  friends,  save  perhaps  to 
deepen  some  color  here  and  there,  or  add  some  faint 
lines  which  may  help  to  bring  out  the  well-known 
features.  Very  fitly  has  our  brother's  wonderful 
''genius  fvr  friendship"  been  spoken  of  as  the 
peculiar  key  to  his  character.  A  more  faithful 
or  truer  friend  I  nc\er  knew. 

"  Kind  with  the  kindness  of  Christ,"  he  had  the 
love  which  is  greater  than  faith,  stronger  than  hope, 
and  more  excellent  than  the  best  of  "  gifts."  In  my 
remembrance  of  him,  I  cannot  separate  this  Chris- 
tian love  from  the  swift  thought,  the  sound  judg- 
ment, and  the  keen  wit  which  were  the  marked 
traits  of  his  intellect.  Loving  truth  supremely,  he 
saw  the  truth  with  the  clear  vision  of  love-anointed 
eyes.  His  penetrating  analysis  went  almost  unerr- 
ingly to  the  heart  of  every  subject  on  which  he 
wrote,  or  of  which  he  talked  ;  while,  with  the  ease 
of  a  skilful  house-keeper,  he  swept  away  those  un- 
sightly cobwebs  of  sophistry  that  gather  in  most 
minds  as   profusely  as   their  material  emblems  col- 


I  jS  Thomas  J.  ATwnford. 

lect  in  our  best  rooms,  when  the  air  and  the  light 
have  been  even  for  a  little  while  shut  out. 

And  what  other  leader  of  our  ranks  has  shown 
us  as  he  has  done  how  to  reconcile  those  commonly 
conflicting  elements  of  a  steadfast  devotion  to  one's 
sect  or  party  on  the  one  hand,  and  on  the  other  that 
catholicity  of  judgment  which  is  but  another  name 
for  the  sympathy  of  the  intellect  with  truth  in  all  its 
widest  and  farthest  reaches  ?  But  here,  also,  his 
Christian  love  was  the  double  magnet  which  kept 
him,  like  Wordsworth's  "Skylark,"  — 

'■  True  to  the  kindred  points  of  heaven  and  home." 

No  other  force  but  this  can  hold  the  mind  in  that 
admirable  poise  wherein  our  friend  always  stood, — 
never  drawn  aside  by  chance  suggestions  from  his 
chosen  line  of  thought,  and  never  forgetting  that 
truth  is  looked  at  from  many  points  of  view,  and 
action  may  often  be  approved  of  by  us  when  we 
ourselves  are  restrained  from  engaging  in  it. 

As  truly  as  wittily  did  his  friend  Chadwick  say 
of  him  that  he  had  hewn  a  path  through  theological 
obstructions,  where  two,  though  not  agreed,  might 
walk  together  and  abreast.  Yet  this  skill  had  come 
to  him  from  no  looseness  or  vagueness  of  belief,  and 
trom  no  preference  of  an  unchartered  freedom  over 
the  truth  that  maketh  free.  The  principle  which 
he  stood  for,  and  which  in  him  was  so  wonderfully 
incarnated  that  it  gave  us  all  a  new  revelation  of  that 
principle's  worth,  was  that  of  Unitarian  Christianity 
in  its  simplest  and  purest  form.     To  him,  as  to  Chan- 


Life  and  Letters.  1 77 

ning,  Christianity  was  Christ.  To  be  Christlike  was 
to  be  Christian.  Christian  faith  meant  Christian 
discipleship;  and  Christian  fellowship  signified  the 
large  and  growing  brotherhood  of  those  whom  in 
his  tenderest  tones  he  was  wont  to  call  the  "fol- 
lowers of  Jesus."  And  the  Jesus  whom  he  followed 
was  to  him,  not  a  human  ideal,  but  a  divine  reality. 
Had  he  been  one  of  the  twelve  with  the  Master  in 
the  flesh,  he  could  have  been  none  other  than  that 
disciple  whom  Jesus  loved ;  and  the  love  would  have 
been  mutually  strong  and  deep. 

I  dwell  upon  this  because  it  was  my  high  privilege 
as  his  successor  in  the  ministry,  and  so  his  pastor,  to 
know  our  brother  in  some  of  the  finest  manifesta- 
tions of  this  his  inner  life  of  Christian  discipleship. 
It  made  him  the  beloved  pastor  in  his  own  active 
ministry,  and  the  sympathetic  comforter  in  times  of 
trouble  which  be  never  ceased  to  be.  It  gave  to  his 
utterance  of  the  unique  invocation  so  often  used  by 
him,  '^  Dear  Father  in  heaven,"  a  power  to  uplift  and 
console,  such  as  only  one  in  fullest  sympathy  with 
the  well-beloved  Son  could  have  exercised.  It  made 
what  are  so  often  nothing  but  the  formal  observ- 
ances of  baptism  and  the  Lord's  supper,  levers  in 
his  hands  to  raise  the  heart  to  the  highest  planes 
of  Christian  thought  and  feeling.  Fully  to  portray 
this  rare  and  inspiring  saintliness  of  soul,  is  a  task 
that  even  those  who  knew  it  best  may  well  shrink 
from  attempting.  Enough  that  it  has  blossomed  to 
sweeten  the  common  air  that  human  spirits  breathe, 


1/8  Thomas  J.  Mtimford. 

leaving  behind  its  undying  fragrance,  while  the 
bright  consummate  flower  is  transplanted  to  ever- 
lasting gardens. 

Henry  G.  Spaulding. 


No  analysis  of  Mr.  Mumford's  quality  as  an  editor 
or  as  a  man  is  adequate  which  does  not  take  in  his 
intense  hold  on  persons.  He  had  almost  a  genius 
for  fine  appreciation  of  noble  characters,  and  for 
loyalty  to  them.  Virtue,  truth,  religion,  were  always 
incarnate  in  his  thought,  never  abstract.  He  cared, 
perhaps,  too  little  for  logical  processes  and  general 
speculations.  His  appeal  was  always  to  life,  to  spir- 
itual experience,  to  the  tests  of  character  and  result. 
He  knew  better  than  many  of  us  how  perilous  it  is 
in  religion  to  run  out  the  parallel  of  thought  very 
far  beyond  that  of  life ;  how  surely  religious  specu- 
lations unbalanced  by  spiritual  experience  become 
involved  in  vagueness,  confusion,  and  contradiction. 
It  was  his  constant  habit  to  hold  up  a  disputed  view 
or  practice  to  be  tested  in  the  light  of  the  conviction 
or  character  of  eminent  and  saintly  men  and  women. 
He  studied  theology  as  it  incarnated  itself  in  noble 
lives.  Not  following  authority  blindly,  he  sought  for 
truth  where  it  seemed  to  him  to  have  embodied  itself 
most  completely.  Without  believing  in  the  infalli- 
bility of  the  Church,  or  of  any  body  in  the  Church, 
the  consensus  of  rational  and  reverent  minds  had 
great  weight  with  him  ;  and  his  intellectual  humility 


Life  and  Letters.  179 

in  the  presence  of  religious  genius,  especially  before 
the  wisdom  of  high  Christian  experience,  was  as 
childlike  as  his  hold  on  his  own  religious  convic- 
tions was  stalwart  and  manly.  Presumption,  brill- 
iant and  erratic  guessing  in  religion,  found  little 
favor  with  him,  and  met,  sometimes,  the  puncturing 
javelins  of  the  same  keen  wit  he  kept  also  in  hand 
for  perverse  and  stupid  bigotry  in  his  own  religious 
body  or  outside,  and  which  he  more  especially  re- 
served for  what  seemed  to  liim  to  be  charlatanry 
or  moral  crookedness,  —  if  in  religious  transactions 
or  religious  men,  so  much  the  more  certain  not  to  be 
spared.  He  simply  could  not  help  having  a  keen 
sense  of  what  was  sophistical,  vaporous,  and  absurd ; 
and  it  was  hard  for  him  to  forbear  the  shafts  of  his 
playful  but  thoroughly  sincere  rebuke:  though  none 
but  those  in  constant  intercourse  with  him  knew 
how  often  he  forbore  them.  And  when  sophistry 
seemed  to  him  to  cover  moral  defect  or  dereliction, 
his  sallies  had  a  ring  of  indignant  earnestness  that 
was  positive  and  sometimes  startling.  Neither  dig- 
nities nor  denominationalism  stood  in  the  way  then 
of  his  scathing  bolt ;  nor  could  recognized  position 
nor  ability  persuade  him  to  assent,  or  atone  with 
him  for  what  he  felt  to  be  loose  or  morally  oblique 
methods  or  conduct.  He  bore  persuasion  manfully, 
and  stood  his  ground. 

He  never  struck  for  the  median  line  of  religious 
sentiment  or  influence.  Under  his  conduct,  the 
Register  never  was  a  denominational  organ,  save  as 
the  Unitarian  public  found  and  rejoiced  to  utilise  a 


1 80  Thomas  J.  Mtimford. 

sjoirit  so  sincerely  and  warmly  in  accord  with  its 
best  traditions,  tendencies,  and  aspirations.  His 
hearty  loyalty  to  Unitarian  Christianity  was  per- 
sonal, not  professional ;  the  genuine  product  of  his 
faith  and  sober  judgment,  not  the  accident  or  neces- 
sity of  his  position.  He  could  never  be  made  to 
comprehend  the  necessity  of  any  denominational 
strategy  that  was  not  also  the  dictate  of  his  genuine 
Christian  manhood.  You  could  be  sure  that  what 
he  advocated  he  believed  in,  and  that,  what  he 
rebuked  he  personally  dissented  from. 

Few  among  us  were  level-headed  enough  to  escape 
his  open  or  implied  correction  sometimes ;  and  they 
were  happy  who  soon  learned  that  the  argument  he 
conveyed  in  a  witty  "Brevity"  left  him  unembittered 
by  the  sally,  and  with  as  much  intellectual  respect 
and  cordial  good-feeling  towards  an  opponent  as 
though  he  had  discharged  a  quarto  at  him.  His 
method  of  argument  was  by  epigram  and  instance. 
In  relation  to  this,  he  once  described  himself  as  a 
"one-barrelled  man."  He  loved  to  load  and  fire  at 
will,  without  waitmg  for  the  whole  intellectual  line. 

That  Mr.  Mumford's  distrust  of  mere  speculation 
and  abstract  reasoning,  and  his  close-clinging  hold  on 
personalities  and  practical  tests,  limited  his  thought, 
—  limited,  sometimes,  his  intellectual  sympathies, — 
is  very  likely.  He  sometimes  did  not  understand 
the  intellectual  processes,  the  logical  necessities, 
that  drove  good  men,  on  one  side  or  the  other,  to 
extremes  where  he  could  not  follow  them.  His 
Christian  faith  was  as  firmly  grounded  in  practical 


Life  and  Letters.  l8r 

conviction  as  was  his  Unitarian  distrust  of  pre- 
scribed methods  and  authoritative  standards  in  re- 
ligion. To  say  that  he  was  sometimes  unjust  to 
those  who  advocated  what  he  opposed,  is  simply 
to  say  that  he  was  human ;  since  no  intellectual 
position  has  been  found  so  broad  as  to  obliterate, 
or  greatly  obscure,  the  fundamental  limitations  of 
a  man's  intellect  and  character. 

But  he  never  failed  to  appreciate  and  rejoice  in 
downright  earnestness,  intellectual  and  moral,  gen- 
uine religious  sentiment,  and  manl}^  character.  His 
loyalty  to  noble  friendship  was  entire,  amounting, 
in  some  instances,  to  discipjeship.  Nor  did  this 
make  him  narrow  or  inhospitable  to  any  claimant 
upon  his  esteem  and  affection.  Neither  tradition 
nor  intellectual  conviction  kept  the  key  of  his  affec- 
tions and  spiritual  sympathies.  His  pantheon  was 
always  open,  and  new  shrines  were  continually 
appearing  in  it.  All  worthy  causes,  all  saintly 
characters,  all  heroic  lives,  had  a  place,  and  there 
was  no  challenge  of  intellectual  shibboleths.  His 
success  as  an  editor  was  in  large  part  the  result  of 
his  genuineness  and  whole-heartedness  as  a  man. 

Henry  H.  Barber. 


Many  have  been  the  tributes  to  the  memory  of 
T.  J.  Mumford,  forming  a  garland  woven  by  friendly 
and  tender  hands.  Amid  its  evergreen  I  would  place 
one  leaf, —  a  leaf  of  gratitude  to  him  as  editor.  This 
shall  be  my  simple  offering.     To  critical  judgment. 


1 82  Thomas  J.  Mumford. 

he  united  such  kindly  feeling  that  when  the  former 
laid  on  the  shelf  an  article  intended  for  his  paper, 
the  latter  made  some  pleasant  suggestion  with  re- 
gard to  the  future.  His  rejection  was  no  rebuff,  his 
denial  had  no  brusqueness,  his  refusal  held  no  dis- 
couragement. Added  to  delicate  consideration,  was 
a  practical  promptness  which  clothed  even  small 
matters  with  certainty.  Joined  with  very  pleasant 
personal  recollections  of  one  whose  sudden  with- 
drawal from  our  visible  sphere  leaves  there  a  per- 
manent void,  are  these  memories  of  his  uniform 
kindness, —  memories  which  ever  recall  the  faithful, 
the  courteous  editor.  Mary  Bartol. 


As  I  was  away  from  the  city  and  the  State  the 
week  Brother  Mumford  died,  I  did  not  hear  a  lisp  of 
his  sickness  even,  until,  returning  Saturday  evening, 
I  learned  that  he  was  dead  and  buried.  It  did  not 
seem  possible.  He  was  the  last  man  to  think  of  as 
dying, —  so  full  of  superabundant  life  and  joyousness. 
But  it  was  even  so ;  and  as  I  had  missed  the  funeral 
services,  and  the  tender  tributes  which  I  knew  were 
paid  to  him  then,  I  went  to  the  cemetery  in  Milton, 
the  Tuesday  after,  to  visit  his  grave. 

The  place  was  already  sacred.  I  knew  the  way. 
It  is  a  charming  spot,  unspoiled  by  art  as  yet. 
There,  in  a  little  clump  of  pines,  secluded  and  quiet, 
I  found  the  place  of  rest.  I  could  not  mistake  it ; 
for,  while  there  were  no  marks  of  fresh  earth,  there 
were  unmistakable   marks  of   a  fresh  sorrow  which 


Life  and  Letters.  183 

had  touched  many  hearts.  The  grave  had  been 
covered  first  with  a  bed  of  evergreen.  This  soft 
and  fragrant  bed  was  again  covered  with  flowers, 
rich  and  beautiful,  which  had  not  yet  faded,  though 
it  was  the  third  day  after  the  burial.  Probably  they 
had  been  replenished  from  the  memorial  service, 
conducted  so  tenderly  by  Brother  Chadwick  on 
Sunday,  and  also  by  dear  ones  who  "had  gone  to 
the  grave  to  weep  there"  alone,  and  to  lay  the  best 
symbol  we  have  of  "God's  smile"  on  the  buried 
dust.  Over  his  breast  was  laid  a  flower-piece,  with 
the  inscription  "  In  Memoriam "  in  small  purple 
flowers  on  a  white  background ;  and  at  the  head, 
lifted  above  the  rest,  a  rare  bouquet,  with  a  v/hite 
lily  in  the  centre,  and  calla  lilies  strewed  around. 
The  whole  was  fringed  with  a  white  border  of 
Nature's  own  weaving.  It  was  not  a  grave,  but  a 
flower-bed  ;  not  the  work  of  the  undertaker,  but  of 
God  and  his  angels  in  the  ministry  of  human  love. 
Oh,  how  still  it  was  as  I  sat  there  !  And  yet  it  was 
not  the  stillness  of  death,  but  of  life, —  quiet,  calm, 
sweet  life.  The  still  air  was  full  of  the  sounds  of 
insect  life.  The  cricket  was  chirping  his  happy 
though  monotonous  content.  Now  and  then  a  bird- 
note  was  heard,  subdued  and  low,  as  if  not  wishing 
to  disturb  the  sacred  quiet.  Away  in  the  distance 
the  happy  voices  of  children  were  heard,  mingling 
with  the  crowing  of  a  cock, —  telling  of  home-life  and 
home-joy  still  going  on,  just  as  if  nothing  sad  had 
happened.  The  gentle  breeze  playing  on  the  twisted 
chords  of   the  pine-leaf  harps,  set  in  every  branch- 


1 84  Thomas  J.  Mtimford. 

window  to  catch  it,  made  music  as  soft  as  the 
murmur  of  the  distant  sea.  It  was  not  a  dirge.  It 
was  not  funereal.  It  was  low,  peaceful,  quieting, 
like  the  lullaby  of  a  mother  humming  her  child  to 
rest.  I  looked  up  and  saw  the  clear,  blue  sky 
through  the  restful  branches,  looking  as  serene  as 
if  conscious  of  nothing  but  life  beneath  its  bound- 
less dome.  I  looked  down,  and  a  large  velvet- 
winged  butterfly,  not  long  out  of  its  chrysalis,  flew 
by  between  me  and  the  flower-bed  grave.  I  thought 
of  the  angel  at  the  tomb,  and  of  that  word  which 
changed  sadness  to  gladness,  "  He  is  not  here;  he 
is  risen."  Here  was  another  angel  at  tiie  tomb, 
silently  whispering  the  same  sweet  assurance,  as  he 
flew  by  in  his  risen  and  glorified  form.  "  Not  here, 
but  risen,"  this  soft-winged  angel  of  a  fresh  resur- 
rection said,  in  that  mother-tongue  of  the  heart 
which  needs  no  interpreter. 

Why  is  it  that  everybody  feels  what  so  many  have 
said,  that  they  cannot  think  of  Brother  Mumford  as 
dead  .■'  Why,  but  just  because  he  is  not  dead  .-*  Why 
could  I  not  think  of  him  as  lying  beneath  that  bed 
of  flowers .-"  Simply  because  he  did  not  lie  there  ; 
only  the  chrysalis,  out  of  which  Jie  had  risen.  I 
could  think  of  him  as  standing  at  my  side.  I  could 
see  his  smile,  and  almost  feel  the  pressure  of  his 
hand ;  but  I  could  not  see  him  in  the  grave,  though 
loving  hands  had  done  all  that  affection  and  faith 
could  to  take  all  the  old  gloom  away,  and  make  it 
beautiful.  He  was  not  there, —  only  the  "  clothes 
lying."      The  grave  was   empty.      Thank  God   it  is 


Life  a)id  Letters.  185 

so !  Terrible  indeed  would  it  be  to  bury  a  friend. 
Sometimes,  in  the  burning  fever  of  grief,  the  dear 
one  gone  does  seem  to  be  buried.  Indeed,  it  often 
takes  more  than  three  days  for  the  loved  one  to- 
rise.  But  not  till  some  angel  rolls  away  the  stone, 
and  sits  upon  it,  saying  to  us,  with  the  assurance 
that  only  true  angels  of  the  resurrection,  whether 
natural  or  supernatural,  can,  "Not  here,  but  risen," 
do  we  get  any  real  comfort,  or  gain  any  real  under- 
standing of  what  Jesus  meant  when  he  said,  "  I  go 
away,  and  come  againy  It  is  the  coming  again  on 
a  higher  plane  that  the  soul  craves.  And  is  not 
the  craving  answered  ?  Do  they  not  come  to  us, 
not  just  as  of  old,  but  transfigured.''  Do  they  not 
at  times  appear  in  our  midst,  the  doors  being  shut, 
walk  with  us  on  our  way  to  some  Emmaus  of  fond 
memory,  and  talk  with  us  till  our  hearts  burn  with 
the  old  flame  which  made  our  communion  with 
them,  while  in  the  body,  a  joy.-*  Do  they  not  come 
to  us  sometimes  on  the  sea-shore  of  our  daily  toil, 
and  kindle  "a  fire  of  coals,"  without  wood,  to  warm 
us  when  wet  and  weary  with  our  nets,  inviting  us 
to  dine  on  the  products  of  an  invisible  and  fathom- 
less sea,  talking  to  us  of  the  flocks  we  are  called  of 
God  to  feed,  and  asking  us  if  we  love  them,  repeat- 
ing the  question  as  true  love  always  does,  not  be- 
cause it  doubts,  but  because  it  loves  to  be  assured 
again  and  again  ?  Are  not  our  "eyes  opened"  some- 
times at  the  "breaking  of  bread"  to  see  celestial 
guests  at  the  table  .■*  And  though  they  may  vanish 
as  quickly  and  mysteriously  as  they  came,  do  they 


1 86  Thomas  J.  Mumford. 

not  leave  their  benediction  with  us,  and  help  us  at 
least  to  look  up,  perchance  to  rise  a  little  with  them 
as  they  ascend  ? 

Dear  brother,  we  will  not  say  farewell ;  for  thou  art 
not  gone  to  stay.  Thou  wilt  often  "come  again." 
If  we  miss  thee,  we  shall  find  thee,  too.  With 
the  inward  sight  we  shall  still  see  thee,  and  with  the 
inward  ear  we  shall  still  hear  thy  voice.  Thy  sunny 
face  will  still  smile  upon  us  as  of  old.  Thy  keen 
wit  and  rich  humor,  cleared  now  from  every  mote 
which,  unconsciously  to  thyself,  may  have  ever 
floated  in  it,  will  still  cheer  and  enkindle  us.  Thy 
strong  words  for  truth  and  right  will  help  us  to  be 
strong  and  true;  and  thy  wonderful  power  to  com- 
fort the  human  heart  in  its  deepest  needs,  and  to 
help  bereaved  ones  feel  that  there  is  no  death,  will 
still  help  us  all  to  feel  that  thoit  art  not  dead ;  that 

"The  good  and  the  true  never  die,  never  die; 
Though  gone,  they  are  here  ever  nigh,  ever  nigh." 

William  P.  Tilden. 


Life  and  Letters  187 

T.  J.  M. 

Lines  read  at  the  unveilins  of  Mr.  Mumford's  picture  in  the  chapel  of  the  Third 
Religious  Society  of  Dorchester,  June  26,  1878. 

In  life  an  honored  name, 

Bright,  without  t-pot : 
A  memory  revered, 

And  unforgot. 
When  touched  by  death's  cold  hand. 

What  better  lot 
Can  man  befall  than  this  I 

A  friend  sincere, 
Glad  with  our  gladness, —  quick 

With  love  to  cheer 
Our  hearts  when  sad,  and  dry 

The  mourner's  tear. 

He  sleeps  the  sleep  of  peace.  * 

A  noble  life, 
Crowned  with  unselfishness. 

Has  ceased  its  strife  ; 
For  him  no  more  this  world 

With  tumult  rife. 
He  is  at  rest  with  God. 

Mourn  we  not,  then, 
Our  loss,  to  him  a  gain. 

Rejoice  we,  when 
We  think  of  him  who  worked 
"  Good-will  to  men." 

A  pastor,  brother,  friend, 

A  Christian  true. 
The  Master's  steps  he  trod, 

His  work  to  do ; 
And  humbly  followed  Him 

Life's  journey  through. 
May  we  him  imitate. 

All  evil  shun ; 
1  That  when,  upon  this  earth 

Gur  coarse  is  run. 

Like  him,  we  t,jo  may  hear 

The  words  "  Well  done." 

N.  M.  Safford. 


XVI. 

RESOLUTIONS. 

At  a  meeting  of  the  Directors  of  the  Christian  Register 
Association,  held  on  Monday,  Sept.  3,  1877,  it  was  voted  to 
put  the  following  upon  the  records :  — 

The  Directors  of  the  Christian  Register  Association  put  upon 
record  their  deep  feeling  of  personal  grief  at  the  death  of  Rev. 
Thomas  J.  Mumford,  late  editor  of  The  Christian  Register,  and  ex- 
press their  high  appreciation  of  his  fidelity  in  the  discharge  of  his 
editorial  duties,  of  his  intellectual  vigor  and  brightness,  the  versatility 
of  his  powers,  his  moral  courage,  fine  perception  of  truth,  and  devout 
religious  faith.  During  his  connection  with  The  Christian  Register 
he  has  woa  the  esteem  and  friendship  of  his  associates  by  his  uni- 
form kindness  and  consideration,  and  rendered,  both  to  the  paper  and 
the  denomination,  invaluable  service.  The  universal  sorrow  at  his 
death  is  a  testimony  on  the  part  of  the  public  of  their  appreciation 
of  his  editorial  services  and  the  worth  of  his  personal  character. 

While  thus  feeling  a  personal  sorrow  at  the  death  of  our  friend 
and  associate,  we  also  extend  to  his  family  our  heart-felt  sympathy  in 
their  anguish ;  and,  while  we  would  not  intrude  upon  the  sanctity  of 
domestic  grief,  we  with  them  find  alleviation  for  our  sorrow  in  the 
rich  and  sweet  memories  which  cluster  around  his  life,  and  the  conso- 
lation and  strengthening  influences  which  come  from  that  beautiful 
faith  which  he  cherished  and  exemplified. 


At  a  meeting  of  the  Third  Religious  Society  of  Dorchester, 
held  in  Parish  Hall,  Wednesday,  Aug.  29,  1877,  the  following 
resolutions  were  adopted :  — • 

The  members  of  this  society,  mindful  of  the  fidelity  with  which 
our  lamented  friend  fulfilled  the  high  trusts  committed  to  him  in  his 
pastoral  and  clerical  relations,  and  also  in  the  various  and  promi- 
nent positions  to  which  he  has  been  called,    desire  to  express  their 


Life  and  Letters.  189 

marked  recognition  and  appreciation  of  his  worth ;  and  they  mourn 
his  departure  as  that  of  a  dear  personal  friend,  and  concur  in  the 
adoption  of  the  following  resolutions :  — 

Resolved,  That  the  decease  of  Rev.  Thomas  J.  Mumford,  holding 
the  pastorate  of  this  parish  for  the  period  of  eight  years,  and  more 
recently  engaged  in  the  editorial  charge  of  The  Christian  Register,  in 
the  full  maturity  of  his  powers  and  in  the  active  discharge  of  clerical 
and  literary  duties,  is  an  event  which  will  be  long  and  deeply  mourned 
in  this  community;  that  the  pre-eminence  of  his  intellectual,  moral, 
and  social  culture,  his  conscientious  and  unfailing  devotion  to  Chris- 
tian duty,  the  gentleness,  kindness,  and  courtesy  of  his  manners,  the 
generous  emotions  of  his  heart,  and  the  purity  and  virtues  of  his 
daily  life  have  justly  endeared  him  to  us  all. 

Resolved,  That  in  his  intercourse  in  this  community  while  engaged 
in  the  work  of  the  ministry,  and  in  the  kindly  charities  of  Christian 
life,  honored  far  beyond  the  usual  lot  in  the  loving  tenderness  of 
friends  and  neighbors,  we  recall  in  more  formal  recognition  his  fer- 
vent zeal  in  his  evangelical  labors,  and  in  the  promotion  of  religious 
and  moral  improvement.  Actuated  by  a  devout  and  unselfish  spirit, 
it  was  the  purpose  of  his  life  to  accomplish  a  large  amount  of  useful 
labor,  and  his  full  share  of  that  labor;  and  this  mission  of  his  life  has 
been  signally  fulfilled.  Liberal  in  his  views,  candid  in  discourse, 
compassionate  in  his  feelings,  his  character  was  ennobled  by  a  love 
of  social  order.  Possessed  in  a  remarkable  degree  of  those  sterling 
attributes  of  character  which  constitute  a  generous,  courageous,  high- 
minded  man,  conforming  his  will  in  harmonious  relations  with  the 
will  divine,  and  recognizing  that  will  as  the  mandate  of  spiritual 
obligation, —  to  these  were  added  those  graces  of  character  and  that 
inspiring  faith  and  fellowship  which  touched  our  hc.irts  to  holy  issues 
and  give  to  his  death  its  touching  pathos. 

Resolved,  That  his  integrity  of  thought  and  action,  his  love  of  the 
generous  and  true,  his  abiding  sense  of  accountability  to  God,  will 
oft  recur  to  our  minds  as  his  familiar  presence,  and  recall  the  sacred 
memory  of  his  virtues  and  the  hallowed  influence  of  his  example. 

Resolved,  That  we  tender  our  sympathy  to  the  widow  and  family  of 
the  d'jceased.  We  commend  them  to  the  consolations  of  that  hope 
in  which  the  departed  found  assurance.  There  yet  remains  the 
memory  of  one  whose  life  was  pure,  whose  character  was  unsullied, 
whose  end  was  peace,  whose  rest  is  hallowed  in  every  heart  in  the 


190  Thomas  J.  Mumford. 

consecration  of  the   holiest  love,  and  whose  presence  was  to  each 
and  all  a  perpetual  benediction. 

Resolved,  That  these  resolutions  be  entered  on  record,  and  a  copy 
transmitted  to  the  family  of  the  deceased. 


The  following  tribute  of  the  First  Congregational  Unitarian 
Society  of  Detroit  was  adopted  Sept.  9,  1877,  and  printed  on  a 
neat  mourning  card :  — 

Called  upon  to  mourn  the  removal  by  death  of  the  Rev.  Thomas 
J.  Mumford  from  the  scene  of  his  earthly  labors,  we,  the  First  Con- 
gregational Unitarian  Society  of  Detroit,  bring,  with  saddened  hearts, 
our  tribute  to  his  memory. 

He  was  our  first  pastor,  a  pioneer  in  the  cause  of  liberal  Chris- 
tianity in  the  West ;  and  the  good  seed  sown  by  him  has  brought 
forth  abundantly  to  testify  of  his  worth. 

As  a  pastor  he  was  earnest,  zealous,  self-sacrificing ;  an  ever-ready 
guide,  counsellor,  and  friend ;  ceaseless  in  his  labors ;  rejoicing  with 
those  who  rejoiced,  and  mourning  with  those  who  mourned;  in  all 
things  a  faithful  minister  of  Him  whose  cause  he  served. 

With  deep  affection  we  cherish  the  memory  of  his  many  virtues, 
his  loving  and  unselfish  spirit,  which,  in  his  life,  so  endeared  him 
to  all  whose  privilege  it  was  to  know  him;  and  we  place  on  record 
our  high  appreciation  of  the  example  he  furnished  of  trusting  faith, 
unswerving  fidelity  to  truth,  and  an  unspotted  life. 

To  his  sorrowing  family,  borne  down  with  a  double  weight  of  grief 
in  his  removal  when  his  presence  as  a  comforter  seemed  peculiarly 
needed,  we  extend  our  loving  sympathy. 

A  beautiful  marble  tablet  has  since  been  placed 
in  the  church  to  his  memory,  bearing  the  following 
lines  from  Chaucer  :  — 

"  Rich  he  was  in  holy  thought  and  work. 
Christ's  lore  and  his  apostles'  twelve  he  taught: 
But  first  he  followed  it  himself." 


Life  and  Letters.  igi 

The  Norfolk  Conference  held  at  Milton,  Oct.  31,  1S77,  took 
the  following  action  :  — 

Resolved,  That  the  Norfolk  Conference  hereby  expresses  its  sense 
of  the  high  character  and  services  of  its  departed  friend  and  tnember, 
Thomas  J.  Mumford. 

That  it  tenders  to  his  widow  and  family  this  testimony  of  affection 
and  respect,  and  its  sympathy  with  them  in  their  great  bereavement ; 
while  thanking  God  with  them  for  the  noble  tribute  he  gave  to  the 
value  and  blessing  of  the  faith  we  hold- 


XVII. 

NOTICES  OF  THE  PRESS. 

By  the  sudden  death  of  this  most  estimable  and  noble  gentle- 
man, The  Chrtstiati  Register,  which  he  has  edited  for  the  last 
five  years,  and  the  Unitarian  body  have  met  with  an  apparently 
irreparable  loss.  The  pathos  of  his  death  is  deepened  by  the 
fact  that  he  had  just  completed  and  entered  a  beautiful  new 
home  in  Dorchester,  and  was  anticipating  a  great  deal  of 
pleasure  from  its  high  and  lovely  situation,  commanding  the 
most  varied  and  delightful  view  that  Eastern  Massachusetts 
can  afford. 

Mr.  Mumford  became  sole  editor  of  The  Christian  Register 
in  1872.  For  two  or  three  years  before,  he  had  been  assistant 
editor,  and  in  this  capacity  had  done  much  to  enliven  the 
intolerable  heaviness  with  which  it  had  long  been  afflicted ; 
but  his  assumption  of  the  entire  control  of  the  paper  was  a 
signal  for  a  complete  renovation.  From  the  start,  his  conduct 
of  the  paper  was  successful  and  even  brilliant.  His  editorials, 
when  they  were  nothing  more,  were  short  and  sensible  ;  but  at 
their  best  they  displayed  a  controversial  skill,  a  moral  energy, 
a  flame  of  indignation,  a  happy  humor,  or  a  lively  wit  that 
made  them  a  tremendous  power  for  good.  But  Mr.  Mumford's 
leading  articles  were  not  the  only  nor  the  principal  factors  in 
his  editorial  success.  His  column  of  Brevities  was  probably 
read  more  faithfully  than  any  other.  No  wittier  column  could 
be  found  in  any  other  paper,  secular  or  religious.  Moreover, 
Mr.  Mumford  had  a  positive  genius  for  selecting  matter  for  the 
different  departments  of  his  paper,  and  for  calling  to  his  assist- 
ance writers  and  correspondents  after  his  own  heart,  and  for 
assigning  special  tasks  to  those  best  fitted  to  perform  them. 
When  we  consider  that,  in  addition  to  all  this,  the  different 
parts   of    tlie     paper   were   always   brought   together   into   an 


Life  and  Letters.  1 93 

artistic  whole,  it  is  no  wonder  that  the  subscription  list  steadily 
lengthened  and  the  financial  success  of  the  paper  was  secured. 

The  theological  position  occupied  by  Mr.  Mumford  was 
about  midway  between  the  two  extremes  of  the  denomination. 
If  he  often  gave  offence  to  the  more  radical  men,  he  quite  as 
often  gave  offence  to  the  more  conservative.  The  general 
influence  of  his  paper  was  undoubtedly  more  favorable  to  the 
rationalistic  than  to  the  supernatural  Unitarians.  The  men  he 
drew  about  him  to  assist  him  were  mainly  of  the  latter  sort. 
He  had  no  fault  to  find  with  anybody  who  remained  inside  the 
Unitarian  or  Christian  boundaries  ;  but  never  feeling  these  to 
be  any  limitation  of  his  own  freedom,  he  could  not  see  why 
they  should  be  to  other  men.  The  attempt  to  foist  a  creed 
upon  the  Unitarian  Association  was  made  soon  after  his 
accession  to  the  editorial  chair.  It  met  with  his  determined 
opposition,  and  elicited  some  of  the  most  brilUant  sallies  of 
his  wit.  Whenever  this  spectre  has  since  reappeared,  he  has 
given  it  a  very  warm  reception.  As  good  a  stroke  of  work  as 
Mr.  Mumford  ever  did  was  in  attempting  to  set  forth  in  its  true 
light  the  claims  of  Humboldt  College,  or  rather  its  financial 
manager,  upon  the  sympathies  of  honest  men.  In  the  famous 
"  Year-Book  Controversy,"  he  took  a  course  which  we  regretted 
at  the  time,  and  see  more  reason  to  regret  with  every  passing 
day ;  but  we  never  doubted  his  entire  sincerity,  nor  his  devo- 
tion to  what  seemed  to  him  the  highest  truth  and  good. 

Mr.  Mumford  had  been  an  able  and  successful  minister  for 
more  than  twenty  years  when  he  took  charge  of  The  Christian 
Register  in  1872.  Brought  up  as  an  Episcopalian,  when  about 
twenty  years  of  age  his  anti-slavery  sentiments  introduced  him 
to  Samuel  J.  May,  whom  ever  after  he  regarded  as  his  spiritual 
father,  cherishing  for  him  a  boundless  reverence,  and  after  his 
death  preparing  his  biognaphy  with  loving  satisfaction.  Study- 
ing at  iMeadville  for  two  years,  he  left  the  school  to  take 
immediate  charge  of  a  new  society  starting  in  Detroit.  Here 
he  remained  for  ten  years,  building  up  a  strong  society,  and 
forming  friendships  that  have  never  been  outgrown.  Next  he 
spent  a  year  in  Marietta,  Ohio,  and  in   1S64  took  charge  of  the 


194  Thomas  J.  Miimford. 

Unitarian  church  at  Dorchester  Lower  Mills.  Always  a  clear, 
straightforward,  and  convincing  preacher,  it  was  as  the  per- 
sonal friend  of  his  people  that  he  attached  himself  to  them 
most  deeply.  He  had  a  wonderful  sympathy  and  gift  of  conso- 
lation. Young  people  were  strongly  attracted  to  him.  In  all 
his  personal  relations,  he  was  one  of  the  pleasantest  of  men. 
No  merrier  companion  could  be  found.  Impatient  of  purely 
business  relations  with  men  and  women,  he  made  himself 
friends  of  all  his  various  assistants  in  the  publication  of  his 
paper.  Few  men  among  us  have  such  a  host  of  friends.  He 
will  be  sadly  missed  by  them,  and  hardly  less  so  by  the  larger 
company  who  knew  him  only  in  his  editorial  capacit}'.  With  a 
singular  gentleness  and  purity  and  feminine  delicacy  of  char- 
acter, he  united  the  most  vigorous  and  stalwart  attribute  of 
manliness.  The  motto  of  the  Chevalier  Bayard  might  without 
flattery  be  graven  on  his  monument :  "  Without  fear  and 
without  reproach."  —  J.  IV.  C,  in  Inqtiirer. 

The  Christian  Register  of  September  8  is  mostly  a  memo- 
rial of  this  wise  and  good  man.  It  would  be  a  vain  thing  for 
us  to  seek  to  add  anything  to  what  is  there  said.  And  yet  we 
would  fain  set  before  our  readers  some  slight  portrait  of  him 
as  he  lives  in  our  thought.  He  was  a  substantial  man.  He 
stood  firmly  on  the  ground.  He  walked  with  no  wavering  or 
unsteady  gait.  Seen  from  any  point  of  view,  there  was  an  air 
of  steadfastness  about  him.  And  this  outward  bearing  did 
not  belie  the  inward  character.  He  was  brave  in  defence  of 
what  he  believed  to  be  right ;  but  his  bravery  was  no  sudden 
impulse.  It  was  a  part  of  the  inherent  strength  and  stead- 
fastness of  the  man.  He  was  a  person  of  strong  convictions, 
and  what  he  believed  he  steadfastly  obeyed  and  followed. 
Duty  was  the  law  of  his  life.  By  that,  most  of  all,  he  was 
brought  into  alliance  with  the  infinite  source  of  life.  Hence 
there  was  no  faltering  when  great  emergencies  were  to  be  met 
and  great  responsibilities  to  be  assumed.  Though  he  was  born 
in  South  Carolina,  neither  the  accident  of  his  birth,  nor  the 
endearing  associations   connected   with   it,   nor  his    personal 


Life  and  Letters.  195 

interests  could  make  him  for  a  moment  hesitate  to  engage 
early  and  with  all  his  might  on  the  side  of  freedom  in  the 
great  anti-slavery  conflict.  Born  in  the  Episcopal  Church,  with 
feelings  of  strong  personal  attachment  to  some  of  its  members, 
he  yet  gave  it  all  up,  and  fearlessly  cast  in  his  lot  with  the 
advocates  of  an  unpopular  faith,  when  the  truth,  as  God  had 
enabled  him  to  see  it,  demanded  of  him  the  sacrifice. 

A  stalwart,  steadfast,  brave  man  he  was,  quick  to  see  and 
strong  to  follow  the  standard  of  right.  And  this  steadfast 
strength  was  not  confined  to  the  demands  of  his  moral  nature. 
It  entered  into  his  whole  being.  It  characterized  all  his  facul- 
ties. He  was  a  man  of  the  most  delicate  sensibilities  and 
affections.  But  they  were  as  strong  and  steadfast  as  they 
were  delicate  and  tender.  "  He  had,"  one  said,  "  a  genius  for 
friendship."  The  circle  of  his  friends  was  enlarged  every 
year.  He  seldom  visited  a  new  place  without  making  new 
friends.  Men  were  drawn  towards  him  and  bound  to  him 
sometimes  by  an  attachment  as  vivid  and  romantic  as  that  by 
which  young  men  and  women  are  drawn  together  for  life.  He 
was  a  public  man.  As  a  minister,  and  much  more  as  an 
editor,  he  was  connected  with  multitudes  of  people.  But  this 
larger  life,  which  sometimes  takes  away  the  sense  of  personal 
relationship  and  merges  the  individual  in  the  mass,  with  him 
never  dulled  the  edge  of  his  personal  affections,  but  rather 
extended  and  intensified  his  friendships.  No  press  of  public 
duty  made  him  forget  the  little  attentions  by  which  he  could 
show  how  alive  and  active  his  personal  feelings  were.  If  he 
could  not  be  with  his  friends  to  speak  the  word  he  wished  to 
say,  he  remembered  them  none  the  less,  and  had  especially  the 
gift  of  writing  just  at  the  most  important  moment,  and  with 
just  the  words  that  were  most  grateful.  For  want  of  these 
timely  and  impromptu  recognitions,  how  often  are  our  most 
dearly  cherished  friendships  allowed  to  cool ! 

And  within  a  closer  circle,  the  sweetness  of  his  nature 
showed  itself  even  more  affectingly,  and  added  more  richly  to 
his  happiness.  "If,"  says  Mr.  Chadwick,  "he  had  a  genius 
for  friendship,  I  think  he  had  a  rarer  genius  for  domestic  love. 


196  Thomas  J.  JMumford. 

Parents,  wife,  brothers,  sisters,  child, —  these  were  the  chords 
of  his  experience  that  gave  out  the  sweetest  music.  He  used 
to  write  their  birthdays,  and  the  days  of  their  re-birth  into  the 
life  to  come,  upon  his  letters  to  me  as  saints'  days  quite  as 
good  as  any  that  the  calendar  can  show.  He  used  to  speak  of 
them  with  glistening  eyes  and  accents  softly  hushed.  And  so 
it  was,  although  I  knew  him  well,  I  came  to  feel  that  I  had 
never  got  beyond  the  outer  temple  of  his  spirit,  and  that  there 
was  an  inner  temple  very  calm  and  holy,  sacred  to  the  most 
close  and  beautiful  affections  of  his  heart." 

This  strong,  faithful,  tender-hearted  man  was,  for  nearly 
six  yearo,  editor  of  The  Christian  Register,  and  no  one  has 
ever  better  answered  the  many  and  varied  requirements  of 
that  difficult  and  important  office.  In  addition  to  his  greater 
and  finer  qualities,  he  knew,  as  by  instinct,  everything  that  was 
going  on,  and  how  to  deal  with  new  or  old  questions  in  the 
light  of  reason  and  in  the  light  that  was  thrown  upon  them  by 
passing  events.  His  death  is  a  serious  loss  to  the  Unitarian 
denomination  and  to  the  whole  Christian  community,  while  it 
has  thrown  a  shadow  on  many  a  private  home  and  heart. — 
Unitarian  Review. 

What  Paul  would  have  said  to  young  religious  editors  we 
can  only  infer  from  what  he  said  to  young  ministers.  Whether 
we  consider  the  pulpit  from  which  he  speaks,  the  audience  he 
addresses,  the  influences  he  exerts,  or  the  obligations  laid  upon 
him  by  the  nature  of  his  work,  we  cannot  see  that  the  functions 
of  an  ideal  editor  would  be  a  whit  behind  those  of  the  chief  of 
ministers.  We  have  just  been  reading  with  extreme  interest 
the  wise  and  discriminating  words  spoken  at  an  editor's  fu- 
neral. However  accurately  they  portrayed  the  characteristics 
of  the  man  whose  sudden  death  all  so  much  lamented,  they 
certainly  outlined  well  some  of  the  most  essential  traits  of  the 
true  editor. 

The  Christian  Register,  of  Boston,  notwithstanding  its  sharp 
thrusts  at  doctrines  we  hold  a  thousand  times  more  dear  than 
it  is  possible  for  a  man  to  hold  mere  negations,  has  for  seven 


Life  and  Lett  as.  197 

years  manif'^sted  increasing  journalistic  ability.  In  the  treat- 
ment of  matters  which  must  be  brought,  in  the  editorial  room, 
to  the  test  of  a  cultivated  taste,  a  sensitive  conscience,  sound 
judgment,  and  a  broad,  generous  spirit,  we  had  learned  to 
admire  it.  The  recent  funeral  of  its  editor,  Rev.  Thomas  J. 
Mumford,  after  making  due  allowances  for  the  halo  of  personal 
affection  which  encircled  him,  the  denominational  spirit,  and 
what  we  may  not  invidiously  term  the  Unitarian  genius  for 
eulogy,  brought  out  in  several  of  its  utterances  some  things 
which  not  only  editors  but  readers  generally  may  profitably 
consider.  According  to  the  confession  of  all,  we  note  that 
what  was  admirable  in  the  paper  was  preeminently  the  char- 
acter of  its  editor.  Some  of  the  memorial  utterances  made 
by  his  friends  respecting  him  are  worth  repeating,  if  for  no 
otiier  reason,  as  suggesting  some  of  the  distinctive  qualities 
of  the  true  journalistic  character.  "  One  could  discern," 
remarks  his  successor,  "between  the  lines  a  manly  strength 
and  sweetness  in  the  expression  of  an  earnest,  consecrated 
soul.  He  gathered  incidents,  anecdotes,  and  songs  as  a  bee 
gathers  honey.  His  memory  was  quick,  accurate,  tenacious. 
His  style  was  uniformly  precise,  graceful,  finished.  He  was 
conscious  of  his  special  gift  for  editing  even  while  he  was 
a  successful  pastor."  His  style  is  again  characterized  as 
"terse,  sententious,  epigrammatic."  "He  thought  too  quickly 
for  lengthy  logical  discussions.  He  disliked  abstractions.  He 
aimed  and  hit.  He  put  into  his  paper  such  vitality  and  spirit 
as  always  kept  curiosity  alive,  wondering  what  new  brightness 
or  new  variety  of  thought  would  ne.xt  appear.  Folly  and  sham 
his  sharp  but  never  bitter  spear  inevitably  punctured.  His 
work  was  his  joy  and  his  rest.  He  felt  an  enthusiasm  for 
everybody  and  everything  connected  with  the  paper, —  contrib- 
utors, fellow-editors,  and  printers."  "  Who  could  resist  the 
fine  contagion  of  his  cheerfulness  ?  Yet  his  pathetic  little 
children's  stories,  written  or  selected,  often  went  to  the 
printer  moistened  with  his  tears.  Every  number  was  full  of 
his  best  self,  his  thought,  his  love,  his  life."  "His  editorial 
judgment,  in  the  quick  and  right  e.xercise  of  which  as  much 


198  Thomas  J.  Muniford. 

depends  as  on  crises  in  a  banking-room  or  on  the  battle-field, 
seldom  erred.  He  was  uniformly  firm  in  his  editorial  convic- 
tions, unmoved  except  by  new  light.  He  did  not  try  to  make 
his  paper  popular  by  making  it  less  religious.  His  faith  in 
God  was  simple,  childlike.  He  dared  to  give  himself  pain  by 
rigidly  excluding  what  he  deemed  not  best  for  the  paper,  no 
matter  who  wrote  it.  He  treated  contributors  with  invariably 
fine  courtesy,  but  with  unmistakable  frankness  and  immutable 
verdicts.  When  weary  of  criticism  at  times,  how  he  would 
have  welcomed  this  flood  of  appreciation  that  his  death  opens. 
His  reward  is,  after  all,  not  in  our,  but  in  the  Master's,  'Well 
done.'  " 

How  much  of  this  is  exactly  true,  our  entire  want  of  per- 
sonal acquaintance  with  Mr.  Mumford  makes  it  impossible 
for  us  to  judge.  But  that  it  ought  to  be  true  of  all  of  us 
editors  of  religious  papers,  there  cannot  be  the  shadow  of  a 
doubt.  The  very  perfection  of  a  picture  so  nearly  impos- 
sible ought  to  make  all  readers  charitable  tov/ards  editors. 
It  should  afford  to  every  one  who  aspires  to  the  responsible 
position  a  more  lofty  ideal.  It  is  a  great  thing  to  be  a  good 
editor. —  Advance. 

The  Christian  Register — the  well-known  organ  of  Boston 
Unitarianism  —  has  lost  the  most  accomplished  editor  it  has 
had  during  the  fifty-six  years  of  its  history.  This  is  saying 
much ;  for  the  Register  has  never  been  conducted  by  a 
second-rate  man.  But  after  according  to  each  of  the  emi- 
nent men  who  were  Mr.  Mumford's  predecessors  the  full 
honor  due  him,  it  remains  true  that  no  other  man  who  ever 
occupied  that  chair  had  such  a  genius  for  editing  as  he.  From 
the  time  he  took  full  charge  of  the  paper  down  to  the  week  of 
his  death,  he  made  it  a  model  religious  journal.  His  shining 
qualities  as  an  editor  were  a  keen  and  ahnost  unerring  moral 
sense,  a  fine  literary  discrimination,  delicate,  we  had  almost 
written  delicious,  humor,  and  unflagging  industry.  With  such 
traits,  he  soon  made  for  himself  a  unique  reputation  in  relig- 
ious journalism,   and   his   paper  became   a  favorite   with   all 


Life  and  Letters.  199 

who  admire  cultivated  Christian  manliness,  or  relish  graceful 
wit.  It  was  our  pleasure  to  number  Mr.  Mumford  among  our 
personal  friends,  and  to  know  something  of  those  character- 
istics which  endeared  him  to  a  large  circle  of  acquaintances. 
He  was  one  of  the  most  genial  and  gentle  of  men ;  unobtru- 
sive, but  as  well  worth  cultivating  as  any  man  we  ever  knew. 
Religious  journalism  loses  in  him  one  of  its  most  brilliant,  at 
the  same  time  that  he  was  one  of  its  purest,  models.  The 
Unitarian  body  suffers  the  loss  of  a  man  who,  while  he  gave 
it  a  literary  service  fully  up  to  its  best  standards,  contributed 
to  it  the  more  needed  support  of  unwavering  adhesion  to 
sound  Christian  faith.  His  acquaintances  will  miss  a  culti- 
vated, sincere,  cordial  friend;  and  his  family  will  mourn  a 
husband  and  father  of  singular  gentleness  and  devotion.  For 
ourselves,  we  feel  that  we  shall  miss  him  sorely,  especially  from 
the  columns  of  the  Register,  through  which  he  infused  such 
a  constant  stream  of  '•  sweetness  and  light"'  that  we  dare  not 
hope  any  other  man  will  succeed  in  doing  more  than  make  us 
keenly  conscious  of  his  absence. —  /.  M.  A.,  in  Universalist. 


We  read  with  sincere  sorrow,  and  hearty  sympathy  for  a 
deeply  bereaved  familj',  of  the  quite  sudden  death  of  Rev. 
Thomas  J.  JMumford,  the  able  editor  of  The  Christian  Register. 
He  falls  in  the  full  maturity  of  his  intellectual  powers, —  only 
a  little  more  than  fifty-one  years  of  age.  Mr.  Mumford  was  a 
man  of  excellent  spirit,  genial  in  temper,  endearing  himself  by 
constant  acts  of  thoughtful  kindness  to  all  that  came  within 
the  circle  of  his  friendship.  He  won  from  our  pastors  in 
Dorchester  their  hearty  respect  and  love,  both  himself  and  his 
now  greatly  afflicted  w!fe  often  mingling  in  their  public  services. 
A  Unitarian  Christian  from  conviction,  the  latter  term,  with 
him,  ever  received  the  strongest  emphasis.  He  had  little  per- 
sonal accord  with  those  whose  liberalism  dismissed  Christ  out 
of  their  faith,  and  warmly  atfiliated  in  Christian  sympathy  with 
many  of  his  brethren  of  the  evangelic  il  churches.  As  an 
editor,  he  had  a  remarkaMc  skill  in  seizing  and    condensing 


200  Thomas  J.  ATiimford. 

the  thoughts  and  incidents  of  the  week.  His  column  of  edi- 
torial comments  was  unsurpassed  by  the  work  of  any  of  the 
editorial  fraternity.  Short,  bright,  apt,  sometimes  keen,  and 
occasionally,  though  rarely,  having  a  sharp  sting  in  them,  these 
comprehensive  notes  found  often  a  wide  circulation  through 
the  press.  We  were  very  widely  separated  from  each  other 
in  our  theological  views  and  interpretations  of  Scripture ;  but 
we  were  drawn  to  our  brother  editor  in  our  personal  inter- 
course by  the  irresistible  force  of  his  Christian  temper.  We 
may  not  speak  here  of  our  appreciation  of  this  loss  to  our 
sadly  afflicted  friend  who  so  suddenly  finds  herself  alone  in 
life  at  a  moment  when  its  common  enjoyment  never  was 
richer,  but  prayerfully  commend  her  "to  God  and  the  word 
of  his  grace,"  whence  alone  can  be  found  adequate  support 
and  consolation  in  an  hour  of  such  utter  earthly  desolation. — 
Zioii^s  Herald. 


The  death  of  Mr.  Mumford  will  be  felt  as  a  real  loss  by  our 
entire  denomination;  for  outside  of  his  wide  circle  of  personal 
friends,  there  are  many  hundreds  of  the  readers  of  the  Reg- 
ister vi\iO  have  long  since  learned  to  love  him  as  the  unknown 
Christian  man  who  always  said  the  right  thing  at  the  right 
time  in  the  ed'torial  columns  of  that  paper.  An  intelligent 
man  in  Olympia  said,  more  than  a  year  ago,  "  I  always  road 
the  Register  clear  through,  and  I  think  it  the  most  ably 
edited  of  any  paper  in  the  United  States."  As  we  knew  Mr. 
Mumford  personally,  and  thought  of  his  unpretending  ways, 
we  naturally  thought  the  remark  quite  extravagant.  But  from 
that  time  till  now,  we  have  not  been  able  to  think  of  a  paper 
that  we  could  say  was  certainly  more  ably  edited  than  The 
Christian  Register.  The  column  headed  '•  Spirit  of  the 
Press "  showed  a  vast  amount  of  wading  through  uninter- 
esting matter,  to  select  with  a  judgment  well-nigh  infallible 
that  which  we  would  be  glad  to  read.  The  column  of  "  Brev- 
ities "  showed  real  genius,  and  we  doubt  not  was  read  more 
than  any  column  in  the  paper,  except,  perhaps,  the  "  Religious 


Life  and  Lexers.  201 

Intelligence."  Mr.  Mumford's  wit  was  of  the  order  that  does 
not  grow  stale  with  time  nor  wear  out  with  the  using ;  and, 
better  than  all,  it  was  ever  used  upon  the  side  of  humanity 
and  practical  righteousness.  Though  so  far  away,  we  join 
most  sincerely  in  the  mourning  expressed  in  the  Register  just 
received;  for  we  shall  miss  the  strong,  helpful  word  of  this 
gifted  brother  every  week  for  a  long  time.  No  one  can  fill 
his  place. —  Unitarian  Advocate. 

It  is  with  deep  regret  that  we  are  called  upon  to  record  the 
death  of  Rev.  Thomas  J.  Mumford,  editor  of  the  Boston  Chris- 
tian Register,  at  his  residence  in  Dorchester,  on  August  29. 
Possessed  of  a  very  unusual  aptitude  for  journalism,  and  gifted 
especially  with  a  brilliant  wit  (which  its  victims  sometimes  felt 
to  verge  on  injustice),  he  was  most  successful  in  his  editorial 
labors,  and  did  much  to  increase  the  prosperity  of  the  paper 
with  which  he  was  connected.  It  will  be  hard  indeed  to  find 
a  substitute  so  exceptionally  skilled  in  the  difficult  art  of 
*'l3aragraphing."  And  it  was  his  sunny,  affectionate,  and  most 
lovable  disposition,  his  warm  and  faithful  heart,  his  utter  inno- 
cence of  any  attempt  to  wound  even  when  his  love  of  fun 
tempted  him  into  sallies  decidedly  aggravating  to  their  objects, 
which  endeared  him  to  many,  and  will  make  him  long  and  ten- 
derly remembered.  He  was  most  constant  and  true  in  private 
friendship,  as  we  have  excellent  cause  to  know.  At  our  ordi- 
nation on  August  31,  1864,  Mr.  Mumford  made  the  "ordaining 
prayer";  and  we  shall  never  forget  the  sweet  fervor,  sim- 
plicity, and  beauty  of  his  words,  or  the  touching  religiousness 
of  his  spirit.  If  the  "laying-on  of  hands"  by  a  true  minister 
of  Christ  could  indeed  bring  the  Holy  Ghost,  we  see  not  how 
we  could  ever  have  strayed  so  far  from  the  fold.  But  no  diver- 
gence of  religious  views  ever  cooled  our  mutual  good-will ; 
and  it  is  with  deep  sorrow  that  we  say  good-by  to  one  of  the 
gentlest  and  best  of  humankind.  —  Index. 

The  announcement  of  the  death,  after  a  very  brief  illness,  of 
Rev.  Thomas  J.  Mumford,  editor  of  The  Christian  Register, 


202  Thomas  J.  Mwnford. 

has  been  received  with  feelings  of  deep  grief  by  a  large  circle 
of  friends.  His  career  as  a  journalist  has  been  highly  suc- 
cessful. He  was  a  vigorous  writer  and  a  brilliant  paragraphist. 
Few  have  engaged  in  their  editorial  work  with  a  higher  aim  or 
more  conscientious  purpose  to  be  faithful.  He  hated  shams, 
and  his  keen  satire  and  sharp  wit  were  often  used  to  puncture 
hypocrisy,  pretence,  and  cant.  Frank  in  the  expression  of  his 
own  convictions,  he  maintained  them  \\ith  unyielding  tenacity, 
having  in  view  the  simple  end  of  truth.  He  was  a  man  of 
deep  religious  convictions,  in  the  largest  and  best  sense  of  that 
term,  and  was  steadfast  as  a  friend.  The  denomination  which 
he  so  ably  represented  will  meet  with  a  severe  loss  in  his 
death,  for  he  had,  in  an  unusual  degree,  the  qualities  which 
combine  to  make  an  efficient  editor.  This  is  not  the  place  to 
speak  in  full  of  his  character  and  labors.  As  a  cherished 
friend  to  whom  we  were  endeared  by  a  long  and  close  attach- 
ment, we  would  here  and  now  simply  pay  a  passing  tribute  to 
his  memory  and  worth.  He  aimed  to  do  his  part  worthily  and 
well.  His  heart  was  true,  and  his  faith  was  strong.  His  was  a 
sincere,  earnest,  manly,  and  Christian  life. —  WomatCs  Journal. 


The  decease  of  Rev.  Thomas  J.  Mumford,  the  editor  of 
The  Christian  Register,  which  occurred  on  Wednesday, 
August  29,  affects  us  as  a  public  calamity.  He  had  made  a 
record  of  editorial  tact  and  ability  that  may  justly  be  pro- 
nounced brilliant.  As  a  paragraphist  —  in  which  character 
much  is  expected  of  the  editor  in  these  days  —  he  had  few 
equals.  His  '•  Brevities  "  in  the  Register  had  given  him  a  repu- 
tation far  outside  of  denominational  lines,  as  expressions  of 
sparkling  wit,  and  also — a  quality  which  does  not  always 
accompany  —  of  generous  humor.  He  gave  occasion  for  the 
complaint  on  the  part  of  his  more  staid  brethren,  of  at  times 
lowering  the  dignity  of  journalism;  but  those  who  felt  the 
glow  of  his  humorous  sallies  judged  that  they  worthily  em- 
bodied a  m  ral  purpose.  He  loved  truth  not  less  than  particu- 
lar truths.     He  hated  pretence,  and  with  a  facile  pen  always 


Life  and  Letters.  203 

gave  it  a  punctured  wound.  He  was  independent,  with  con- 
victions of  his  own,  which  he  asserted  with  resolute  purpose. 
His  death  was  very  sudden.  On  Saturday,  August  25,  he  was 
in  his  usual  health.  On  the  succeeding  Wednesday,  he  had 
passed  away.  We  shall  sadly  miss  his  easily  identified  utter- 
ances. Fortunate,  indeed,  will  the  Register  be  if  it  fills  the 
large  vacancy. —  Universalist. 

The  Inquirer  will  be  deeply  touched  by  the  very  wide-spread 
sorrow  caused  by  the  sudden  death  of  Mr.  Mumford.  One  of 
the  keenest  of  pens  ceased  its  work  when  this  truest  and 
kindliest  heart  ceased  to  beat.  That  the  noblest  and  fittest 
workers  so  often  fall  out  of  the  ranks  is  that  which  makes  one 
of  the  most  impenetrable  mysteries  of  death.  It  sometimes 
seems  as  though  a  wise  general  would  hardly  manage  his 
forces  so ;  and  yet  we  see  only  a  part  of  the  field  across 
which  stretch  the  lines  that  are  fighting  the  age-long  cam- 
paign of  light  and  darkness,  of  good  and  evil. 

"...  We  trust  that  somehow  good 
Will  be  the  final  goal  of  ill  " ; 

and  if  we  believe  that  tears  and  evil  and  death  are  somehow 
the  raw  materials  of  which  the  better  and  the  best  will  at  last 
be  made,  sympathy  for  personal  friends  and  relations,  sorrow 
for  our  denominational  loss,  and  an  unfaltering  courage  to  pick 
up  and  complete  the  work  he  loved  and  would  have  done, — 
these  are  what  are  left  for  us.  —  Rev.  M.  jF.  Savage,  in 
Inquirer. 

The  last  number  of  The  Christian  Register  is  devoted 
mainly  to  the  reminiscences  and  memorial  services  of  its  late 
editor,  Rev.  T.  J.  Mumford.  If  the  half  that  is  said  of  him 
is  true,  he  must  have  been  a  man  of  brilliant  intellectual 
endowments,  and  of  a  most  charming  and  lovable  nature. 
He  was  certainly  an  excellent  editor,  and  we  can  understand 
how   highly   he   must   have   been   appreciated   by   those   who 


204  Thomas  J.  Mumford. 

look  at  life  from  a  Unitarian  point  of  view.  We  have  always 
found  the  Register  to  be  one  of  the  most  interesting  of  our 
exchanges.  It  was  animated  with  a  bold,  free,  but  kind  spirit, 
and  the  Unitarians  will  not  find  it  easy  to  replace  him. —  New 
Jerusalem  Messenger. 


Mr.  Mumford  was  a  man  of  remarkably  gentle,  unselfish, 
sympathetic  temperament  and  winning  manners.  He  had,  as 
Sir  Walter  Scott  describes  it,  "  a  genius  for  friendship."  Years 
after  his  departure  from  Detroit,  he  was  overwhelmed,  on  his 
casual  visits  here,  not  only  by  his  former  parishioners,  but  by 
old  neighbors  and  acquaintances  who  remembered  his  kind 
ways,  and  pleasing  speech,  and  helpful  counsel.  He  was  ex- 
ceedingly agreeable  in  conversation,  full  of  interesting  anec- 
dotes and  reminiscences.  Mr.  Mumford's  editorial  writing 
was  always  courteous  and  dignified,  and  the  column  of  brevities 
in  his  paper  was  charged  with  both  pungent  and  genial  humor. 
—  Detroit  Daily  Post. 


We  regret  to  record  the  decease  of  Rev.  T.  J.  Mumford, 
editor  of  The  Christian  Register,  which  occurred  quite  unex- 
pectedly last  week.  Mr.  Mumford  entered  the  Unitarian 
ministry  from  the  Episcopal  Church,  and  his  influence  in  his 
late  sphere  was  conservative  of  the  claims  of  faith  in  revealed 
religion.  Widely  as  his  views  in  religion  differed  from  our 
own,  The  Christian  Register  under  his  lead  has  been  one  of 
the  most  enjoyable  of  our  weekly  exchanges.  It  may  be  as 
ably  conducted  by  another  hand,  but  it  will  be  fortunate  indeed 
if  its  readers  do  not  for  some  time  miss  the  shrewd  sense  and 
the  always  kindly  and  often  witty  utterance  of  the  late  editor. — 
The  Watchtnan. 


We  have  learned  with  profound  regret  that  Mr.  Mumford, 
the  editor  of  The  Christian  Register,  of  Boston,  U.S.,  died  at 
the  close  of  last  month,  suddenly,  in  the  full  prime  of  his  life, 


Life  and  Letters.  205 

dhd  ni  the  midst  of  his  inestimable  service  to  the  Unitarian 
cause.  We  were  hoping  that  we  might  have  soon  seen  him 
on  this  side  of  the  Atlantic,  that  we  might  pay  him  the  tribute 
his  ability,  sincerity,  and  goodness  richly  deserved.  Many  of 
us  know  how  invaluable  have  been  his  labors  as  editor  for  a 
series  of  years.  His  full  sympathy  with  and  defence  of  the 
Christian  position  of  our  denomination  are  well  known.  He 
now  rests  from  his  anxieties  and  labors. —  The  Christian  Life. 


He  was  a  man  of  talent,  bright,  cheery,  and  genial,  with  the 
best  of  hearts  and  the  purest  and  noblest  of  thoughts.  Mr. 
Mumford  edited  the  life  of  his  early  friend,  Rev.  Samuel  J. 
May,  and  he  was  a  zealous  abolitionist.  As  an  editor,  Mr. 
Mumford  was  a  success,  and  he  loved  his  work  and  faced  his 
responsibilities  with  much  spirit  and  public  devotion.  Although 
Unitarian,  he  was  not  a  one-idea  man  in  religious  matters,  and 
recognized  the  good  in  all.  He  was  a  pure  Christian,  and  he 
carried  his  professions  into  practice.  His  circle  of  friends 
was  very  extensive,  and  the  sorrow  at  his  sudden  death  is 
extremely  great. —  Boston  yotirnal  of  Commerce. 


Rev.  Mr.  Mumford,  of  Boston,  whose  sudden  death  was  an- 
nounced last  week,  was  originally  an  Episcopalian.  He  studied 
theology  at  the  Meadville  Seminary,  and  preached  for  a  few 
years,  when  he  went  into  journalism,  becoming  first  a  contrib- 
utor to  and  afterward  editor  of  The  Christian  Register,  the 
leading  Unitarian  paper  of  New  England.  Under  his  manage- 
ment, the  Register  became  one  of  the  best  and  ablest  religious 
papers  of  the  country  ;  and  his  personal  character  was  so  high 
as  to  win  from  the  most  "evangelical"  papers  the  phrase 
''Unitarian  Christian"  as  applied  to  him. —  The  Alliance. 


It  is  with  surprise  and  great  sorrow  that  we  learn  of  the 
sudden   death  of  the  editor  of    The  Christian  Register,  Rev. 


2o6  Thomas  J.  Mumford. 

Thomas  J.  Mumford.  Though  frequently  having  occasion  tc^ 
differ  from  him  on  doctrinal  points,  we  always  considered  him 
one  of  the  brightest,  most  courteous  and  accomplished  of 
journalists.  Multitudes  whom  he  never  knew  in  person  will 
deeply  mourn  his  loss.  The  Register,  in  his  hands,  has  pos- 
sessed a  certain  journalistic  quality  it  will  never  quite  have 
again.  —  A  dvance. 


We  were  shocked  to  hear  last  week  of  the  death  of  Rev. 
T.  J.  Mumford,  the  editor  of  our  Tremont  Place  neighbor,  The 
Christian  Register.  Mr.  Mumford  was  at  his  desk  on  Satur- 
day, the  25th  ult. :  on  Saturday,  the  ist  inst.,  his  body  was  car- 
ried to  its  burial.  .  .  .  Though  his  paper  and  ours  were  often 
obliged  to  differ  stoutly  on  theological  points,  they  never,  we 
believe,  quarrelled;  and  we  always  entertained  the  highest 
opinion  of  his  editorial  abilities.  —  Congregationalist. 


We  are  glad  to  notice  that  nearly  all  of  our  contemporaries 
have  paid  well-deserved  tributes  to  the  memory  of  Rev.  Thomas 
J.  Mumford,  late  editor  of  The  Christian  Register  (Unitarian), 
Boston.  As  an  editor,  Mr.  Mumford  won  a  well-deserved  rep- 
utation. The  Register  will  hardly  find  a  successor  able  to  fill 
his  place,  though  such  an  event  is  much  to  be  wished  for,  that 
our  Unitarian  friends  may  continue  to  have  a  truly  representa- 
tive journal. —  Christian  Leader. 


The  late  Rev.  Thomas  J.  Mumford,  editor  of  The  Christian 
Register,  was  a  vigorous  and  able  journalist,  whose  special 
ability  was  in  writing  paragraph  notes  on  the  editorial  page. 
He  worked  on  The  Christian  Register  almost  single-handed, 
but  made  it  one  of  the  most  readable  and  valuable  of  our 
exchanges.  The  Unitarians  will  find  it  difficult  to  find  an 
equally  good  manager  for  their  chief  denominational  paper. — 
Independent. 


Life  and  Letters.  2,QJ 

From  his  childhood  up,  all  distinctions  of  caste  and  condi- 
tion were  overborne  by  his  respect  and  love  for  humanity. 
That  last  Sunday  of  his  life,  spent  in  his  own  home  with  its 
wide  outlook  upon  earth  and  sea  and  sky,  surrounded  by  his 
own  household,  and  his  friends  and  fellow-laborers  of  the 
printing-office,  was  a  fitting  close  of  such  a  life, —  a  glorious 
sunset. —  Dorchester  Beacon. 

Rev.  Thomas  J,  Mumford,  editor  of  The  Christian  Register, 
who  died  on  Wednesday,  was  well  known  to  the  people  of 
the  Unitarian  denomination  in  this  vicinity.  During  Rev.  Mr. 
Moors'  absence  when  a  chaplain  in  the  army.  Rev.  Mr.  Mum- 
ford  had  charge  of  his  parish,  and  endeared  himself  to  all  with 
whom  he  came  in  contact.  —  Gazette  and  Courier  {Greenfield^ 
Mass.). 

The  Christian  Register  of  last  week  is  a  memorial  number, 
devoted  largely  to  a  review  of  the  life  and  character  of  its  late 
editor,  Rev.  Thomas  J.  Mumford,  whose  death  was  so  great  a 
loss  to  that  journal,  and  to  the  ministerial  and  editorial  profes- 
sions. The  Register,  under  his  management,  was  one  of  the 
brightest  and  most  readable  weeklies  in  the  country.  —  Golden 
Rule. 

The  death  of  Thomas  J.  Mumford,  editor  of  The  Christian 
Register,  takes  from  the  fraternity  one  who  will  be  widely  and 
greatly  missed.  His  geniality  made  the  Register  in  spirit 
thoroughly  Christian;  lively  without  being  pert,  and  keen 
without  being  sharp-edged.  His  death  was  sudden.  It  will 
not  be  easy  to  find  one  to  fill  his  place.  —  Chris tiati  Union. 

We  announce  with  deep  sorrow  the  very  sudden  death  of 
Rev.  Thomas  J.  .Mumford,  editor  of  The  Christian  Register,  the 
Boston  Unitarian  paper.  He  was  a  most  genial  writer,  and  for 
years  past  we  have  regarded  his  paper  as  the  best  edited  relig- 
ious weekly  of  our  acquaintance.  —  New  Covenant. 


2o8  Thomas  J.  Mmnford. 

He  was  an  earnest  anti-slavery  worker  during  that  contest, 
always  a  friend  of  humanity  and  a  man  of  integrity.  During 
his  seven  years'  editorship  of  the  Register,  he  made  it  a  valua- 
ble literary  paper,  and  one  whose  moral  influence  was  of  a  high 
order.  —  Morni7i£  Star. 


Under  his  auspices,  the  Register  has  been  an  exceedingly 
interesting  and  readable  paper.  No  one,  however  widely  he 
might  differ  from  its  views,  could  fail  to  recognize  the  vivacity 
and  ability  with  which  they  were  maintained.  —  National  Bap- 
tist. 

The  death  of  the  editor  of  The  Christian  Register  is  an- 
nounced. He  was  originally  an  Episcopalian.  The  Register, 
a  Unitarian  paper,  was  considered,  under  his  management,  one 
of  the  best  edited  papers  in  the  country.  —  Star  in  the  West. 

He  always  cherished  a  love  for  the  press,  contracted  by  some 
editorial  experience  while  yet  uncertain  as  to  his  vocation.  He 
took  charge  of  the  Register  seven  or  eight  years  ago,  and  has 
made  it  an  admirable  paper.  —  Evangelist. 

He  was  one  of  the  best  journalists  in  the  land.  —  Methodist. 


"  In  the  room 
Of  this  grief-shadowed  Present,  there  shall  be 
A  Present  in  whose  reign  no  grief  shall  gnaw 
The  heart,  and  never  shall  a  tender  tie 
Be  broken;  in  whose  reign  the  eternal  Change 
That  waits  on  growth  and  action  shall  proceed, 
With  everlasting  Concord  hand  in  hand." 

Bryant,   The  Flood  of  Years. 


UNIVEKSn  Y  ot  CALIFOitWiA 

AT 

LOS  ANGELES 

LIBRARY 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

Los  Angeles 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


RclO  TOOK  BOX 

LP?  5 1962 


Form  L9 — 15m-10,'48  (B10o'J)4.11 


BX  Miimford  - 

9869       Life  and 
M92A2     letters  of 
1879       Thomas  J. 
Mumford* 


>E"P  2  4  1961 


BX 
9869 

M92A2 
1879 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


AA    001  102  184   7 


